


Me Katniss, You Peeta

by Blueberrychills94



Category: Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe, Betrayal, F/M, Forbidden Love, Historical AU, Jungle, London, Marriage, Mute!Katniss, New World, Nudity, Pursuit, Rich!Peeta, Sex, Some Everthorne, Tarzan - Freeform, Violence, basic instincts, everlark, expedition - Freeform, reproduction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 18:30:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 47,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7725175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blueberrychills94/pseuds/Blueberrychills94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Historical AU (Based off Tarzan): Katniss' parents are killed in the jungle when she was a baby and she has been raised by apes her whole life. She behaves like an ape and is not aware of her human heritage until a group of humans take an expedition through the jungle. She is warned to stay away from them; that they are dangerous and a threat to her; but a particular member of the expedition, a strange man called Peeta, fascinates Katniss and she can't keep away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I Do Not Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys, hope you enjoy my new story venture! The premise of this story is based off of Tarzan but it will take a path of its own :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games or Tarzan, the writing is the only thing that's mine.

Me Katniss, You Peeta.

Chapter One

The view from the treetops is indescribable. Words have never came easy to me, I have never uttered more than a few in my entire life, but I know that even if I could speak in proper terms, I still would not be able to describe the sheer beauty of the view of the jungle from the top of the tallest tree. I can see my entire world stretched out in front of me and I entertain the idea that I can see every leaf; every blade of grass; every beetle; every bug; from my seat on the highest branch. I know that this is impossible but it pleases me to think this way. My entire world, in the palm of my hands.

I am the jungle.

The jungle is me.

I hear Kala's call. Distant but distinct. I whip around, squinting through the leaves, and see her sitting at the base of the trunk. I call back and smile, assuring her that I'm fine, before grabbing a vine and sliding down. My feet crush the forest debris, creating a satisfying crunch, and I lower myself onto my haunches. Kala's gaze is judging, her anger at my vanishing clear. I lean forward and nuzzle her neck, her scratchy, matted fur rubbing my cheek. She is not angry at me long and smiles affectionately. Her large hand pats my head before she walks away, expecting me to follow.

I do for I have nowhere else to go.

I do not entertain the idea that I am the same as Kala and the others because it is clear I am not. They are covered in gorgeous fur; have hands large enough to crush opposition with ease; they are bigger than I; stronger; faster. My skin is bare; my hands are small; but I am strong. I do not wish to discover why I am different, I have been raised by Kala so she is my family.

Once we have reached the spot where the others are resting, Kala tells me that we are to move on at dusk. I remember when it used to be a challenge to move in the dark. As a youngling I struggled, but I am older now and find it easier to frequent the trees than the land. I nod in understanding and eat a short meal before we set off. I exchange quick looks with the others, whose eyes light up with glee.

There was a time when they wouldn't accept me. They allowed Kala to raise me but it was no secret that once I grew older, they wanted me gone. And I don't believe for one second that they wouldn't have pushed me out if Kala hadn't fought so hard to keep me. My best friend Gale, an ape much larger than I who accepted me ever since I was a youngling, desperately wanted me to stay but we knew I'd have to do something to prove to the others that I was worth keeping. Especially to Cornelius, the leader of the troop who still gives me the stink eye despite the other's acceptance.

Gale dared me to steal the hair of an elephant, something no ape ever dared to do. I wanted to be accepted as a fellow ape desperately, I wished to prove myself as one of them, so I did what he told me to do. It was an incredibly stupid thing to do but we all do silly things to no longer be considered an outsider. I didn't want the other apes to look at me like I was 'a hairless wonder' anymore. I wanted them to look at me and see one of them. Which retrieving the elephant hair would hopefully achieve.

Gale had been right to dare me; I had been stupid to accept it. However, over the years I had learned to use my differences to my advantage and was able to swim in the rivers and creeks, a thing no ape had ever been able to do. The elephants frequent the water, using their magnificent trunks to slurp up the water as nourishment. I snuck up behind a baby and plucked a single hair from its behind. For a single moment I was triumphant, staring at the hair between my thumb and forefinger in disbelief, amazed that I had managed to do it.

The baby elephant lashed out, its panic causes a stampede to ensue. Thankfully, no one from the clan was injured but I couldn't believe I had been so idiotic as to think that I could gain acceptance by doing ridiculous things. Sometimes I blame Gale, for who I know blames himself, but I know in my heart that it's no one's fault but my own.

Kala showed me that night that we are the same. She held me in her arms and showed me that we have the same hands; eyes; hearts. That where-ever I came from doesn't matter, that I am hers and she is mine. I the daughter and she the mother. I was raised by Kala and I will continue to be raised by her. She loves me and I will always love her. My new confidence surprised the other apes in the clan but I think they began to respect me for how I no longer cared about what they thought of me. I don't know if they've stopped calling me the 'hairless wonder' but I no longer receive angry eyes being thrown my way. And, for now, their respect is the best thing I can have.

We travel all night. I always keep one eye on my mother and one eye on the sky. I sometimes wonder if this is what it feels like to be a bird, soaring through the air with wings full of gorgeous feathers. I swing from vine to vine, grabbing at branches and jumping across reasonable gaps. Kala is watchful of me, I know how she worries, but this is the only way I am to keep up with them. On the ground, I am the hairless wonder, in the trees, I'm the best ape in the jungle.

The dark is relaxing, my eyes working like the sun is still up and day is still neigh. I can feel my muscles begin to ache but I do not stop, I do not pause, because I must prove I am one of them, show the apes I am strong. Because I am strong. Stronger than most of them. I sometimes wonder if I was maybe an ape just born without hair. That this is what Kala and Gale and Cornelius would look like if I were to shave them down to their natural skin. Just because I can flaunt my muscles and tawny skin does not make me weak. My differences do not make me weak.

I am strong.

When the sky morphs from the pitch black of night to a pale purple as the hot ball of fire begins to make its way back to us we stop. The clan settles but I stay up in the trees, staring at the kingdom of leaves and foliage as dawn approaches. A brand new day. My fingers tighten around the branch I sit on, clutching until my knuckles turn white. My muscles are crying for reprieve but I have to see it, I have to see the brand new day as it unfolds before my eyes. The sun is the instigator, the controller of us all. I will not rest until I welcome it back to the jungle. Thanking it for giving me the rest my body needs, thanking it for the light that it brings the land.

I know it is not my place to thank on the behalf of the jungle but I do it anyway, as the other animals will not bother, I am sure of it.

I sleep in the tree, nestled against a branch and shrouded by the leaves. The sun warms my skin, lulls me to the sleep, and I immerse myself into the depths of my own mind.

When I awaken again, I am sure it is afternoon. The sun has not left yet but I am sure it will soon. The clan is still below me, all still asleep. I stretch my limbs and jump to the next tree, then the one after that and the one after that. I continue to swing and leap and climb and skid until I am far from the other apes but still know where they are. I don't know where I'm going but that adds to the enjoyment of it.

I move so far into the jungle I find myself somewhere I've never been before. Kala always told me to never go into the uncharted areas without her but I find myself older now and the prospect no longer frightens me. Everything is the same to the untrained eye but I notice the many differences that wow me into silence. The flowers are exotic and of odd, bright colours. The grass is a little longer, littered with leaves and the odd rotting fruit. I jump from my tree and wander across the expanse, my eyes unable to take in everything at once.

It's beautiful; it's amazing; it's awing.

In the distance, I find a weird structure. As I approach, I realize it must be made of the same thing as the trees. A wood of some sort. The structure is falling apart, veins having wrapped themselves around the top and bottom, leaking out of holes and crumbles in the wood. I wonder how long such a thing has stood here and how long it has went unnoticed by the others.

Inside is in just as much a ruin. The floor is cool beneath my feet and I do not like it, but do not back down. There are more odd structures inside. Made of the same tree wood. The interior is rotting away, the entire place stinking of mildew. Again I wonder how old this place is and, more importantly, what in the world it is.

Who used to use such a place? What was its purpose? Does Kala know that such things exist in this very jungle? Or will she be just as surprised as I am?

A strange sound captures my attention. My nerves lurch to attention and I immediately flee, survival having been drilled into me ever since I was a youngling. I scale the closest tree, using anything I can find. Vines; branches; even leaves a couple of times. I know I should go back to Kala and the others but something keeps me rooted to my spot high in the tree. Whether it be curiosity or just pure stupidity, I'll never know.

A group of strangers appear out from behind the cabin. Strange creatures I have never seen before. I stay close to the trunk of my tree but continue to look on, amazed at how these animals hold themselves so straight and have such strange hides-

They don't have hides. Only skin.

They look like me!

No, this can't be true. Kala never said there was more of my kind. She would have told me. These animals must be a variation of something I've never seen before. A mutant or a hybrid of two unsuspecting species who decided to would be a good idea to mate, despite the ugly off spring they'd produce.

There's five people. All seeming to look like me. Long hair, much straighter and cleaner than mine; facial features evenly spaced out and unburdened by fuzzy fur; they walk on two legs and do not drag their hands. They're surprisingly similar to me, despite the impossibility of it.

"This is where they used to stay," one of the animals says. The voice is high pitched and they speak the words I can sometimes produce when I try hard enough. "I told you that people used to live here, Delly."

The supposed 'Delly' folds its arm and sticks out its bottom lip. "It was an easy mistake to make, this jungle is so thick it would be reasonable to think it was only inhabited by animals!"

All these creatures wear strange clothes. Tawny bottoms and zipped up tops, with strange headwear that covers most of their heads. The first one to speak opens its mouth again but is interrupted by the third creature standing by. The fourth and fifth have both disappeared into the structure I just left, intrigued by its mystery just like I had been. "You fought so hard to prove your point, Delly, you even insulted a few of Leevy's ancestors. I think you should apologise."

"Oh, do be quiet Madge, it's nothing to do with you," snaps the Delly.

I have not heard of any of these animals. Delly. Leevy. Madge. I cannot believe how much I have missed out on. I spent my life believing I knew every animal in the jungle. It appears I am far from it.

"Besides, that cabin could be inhabited by animals," the Delly insists.

"Nope." The fifth girl comes out before the fourth, a somewhat satisfied smile on her features. "There's furniture in there and everything. Humans. Definitely."

Humans? What is a human? Are these animals variations of humans, I wonder? If so, how have I never seen them before? Are these names only titles for the whole species known as human?

The Delly is clearly enraged. It marches past the Madge and Leevy, stomps up the steps and stands inside the odd tree wood structure. "It's a mess in here, you can't tell that this rot is furniture!" it declares. It spins on its heel and looks at fifth creature. "You're wrong, Clove. Wrong, wrong, wrong!"

"Oh shut it, will you?" the Clove bellows. I am impressed by its bravery, shouting in the middle of a populated jungle, and find the way the Delly cowers a little amusing. "Prim, second opinion, furniture: yay or neigh?"

"Yay!" A small voice replies. Fourth animal returns to join the others, the Prim creature? "Definitely human furniture."

The Delly, obviously outnumbered, throws its hands up in despair. I wonder if its mistake will cost it its position with the pack, if it will now be kicked out, like I have almost been many a time before. Instead, however, it simply kicks the side of the structure in anger. "You always gang up on me," it complains.

"That's because you're always wrong," the Leevy responds, mimicking the Delly tone almost as well as I have learned to mimic Kala's calls.

The Delly is still furious. It looks around and raises its eyebrows in suspicion. My heart beat quickens. Has it picked me out? Caught my scent? Am I now in horrible danger? It spins on its heel again, this time in a full circle, and only speaks when it stands back in its original position. "Where is Peeta? Did we lose him along the way?"

"Maybe he's made his escape from you," the Clove mutters. The Madge animal makes a strange snickering noise and nudges the Clove with its elbow.

Another strange name for a creature. I have never heard of a Peeta. I begin to fear something I had never imagined, something that had never crossed my own mind. How well do I know my own home? If I don't recognize these creatures, how many more out there are there that I don't know? Do I really only know a quarter of my comrades; my enemies; my friends? Maybe Kala was right. Maybe I should stay with her always, as she knows the ways of the jungle and would never betray me in that way.

The Delly comes out with the most deafening squeal I have ever heard in my entire life. As new as this animal is to me, she must be low on the food chain, as it is not very smart. Making such noises could attract predators from far and wide. "Peeta!" she squeals, "where are you?!"

The Leevy, a little smarter than its fellow pack member, slaps the Delly round the head. "Hush! The gorillas are nearby, we don't want to wake them!" she scolds.

However, the Delly's call works and another creatures comes out from the tree line. This one is different; much, much different. So different I find myself clamouring onto a closer to branch to have a better look. This animal is strapping, broad shouldered and strong looking. Its fur is not like the others, not long and dark like my own. It's cropped and scruffy, amazingly fair. Its skin is pale as milk, once again hairless. It is beautiful. Unlike anything I have ever seen before.

The Delly's call must be a mating call of some sort. Calling the pretty and the perfect toward her. "Ah, Peeta, there you are," it declares. I begin to wonder which are the males and which are the females in this strange pack of naked creatures. I guess the long furred ones are the females, judging by the Delly's simpering and high pitched voice. Then the beautiful being, the 'Peeta', is the only male. How odd. Normally packs are dominated by the males. How strange this pack's customs are. But then again, I could be wrong.

"Sorry, I was distracted," the Peeta quickly explains. Wedged under its-his?-arm is a strange looking object, the part facing me coloured brown with a white section wedged between. "There's a tree back there that's got this lovely entanglement of vines. You should see the wrinkles in the bark, it's like nothing I've ever seen before."

The Delly rolls her eyes, sidling up to the Peeta and laying a hand on his shoulder. "You mustn't wander off, you had me worried for a moment." She bats her eye furs, the yellow strands flickering in an annoying fashion. It is clear what she is doing here. I've seen apes do it enough around mating season. She's marking her territory, showing the other girls who owns this Peeta creature. But, from what I can see, her pack mates don't seem to care. And the Peeta creature seems oblivious to it anyway, taking in his surroundings in amazement I recognize as the wonder of new environments. An amazement I had already experienced not long beforehand.

I don't care about the others anymore, I simply watch the Peeta. It is the only animal out of this new pack that has so far been able to appreciate the beauty of the jungle. It is dressed different from the others-proof that it is definitely different in gender, if I could only figure out which. It's top is white, the arm covers puffed out a little, with another top over the white that is black as night. I wonder at first it Peeta creatures wear bottoms as the bottom this one wears are so close fitted that I first think they are its legs. How strange. How different. How . . . exhilarating. A strange contraption sits at the end of its nose. The object is thin and wired and appears to be fitted with glass. The Peeta pushes them up every now and then but they almost immediately slip down again.

I look at my own body covers. Made from the hide of Kala's latest kill, a leopard who attacked the clan not long ago. I am completely different to these 'humans', dressed my animal skins and covered with dark skin and hair. If they saw me, would they think the same?

I force myself to move. I yank a vine free and make my way back to the clan. The humans are still on my mind but I force myself not to think about it, no matter how much the Peeta creature comes back into my head.

Kala is awake when I return and scolds me for wandering off. I take her apprehending and climb my tree again, deciding to get some more sleep before the clan begins to move again. Maybe by tomorrow we'll find the cabin.

I do not dream.

I never dream.

I have nothing to dream of.

Only blackness.

That's all I see.

In my dreams, I lack the sun.


	2. The Peeta

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When she strays from her clan, Katniss stumbles upon a member of the human clan. The very member who had struck her as so fascinating that first day she spotted them . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hey guys, I thought I'd clear a few things up.
> 
> I know some of you guys recognised this from my account on fanfiction.net. Yeah, this story is already available on fanfiction.net, and is in the process of being posted on Wattpad. I am ashamed to say that it wasn't been updated after chapter nine in over a year. A mixture of family trouble and writers block made my inspiration run dry for a very, very long time. I didn't want to force it because then the chapters would have been low quality, and I didn't want to update loads but the content I was posting be low quality, badly revised and written chapters. So I stopped.
> 
> BUT
> 
> As I'm in the process of posting this story here, and on Wattpad, I'm hoping to be able to get back into the swing of the story. I loved this idea, and hated that I got such bad writer's block. I do have some ideas on how to continue, and it's just a matter of getting them written down. So, hopefully, once I reach chapter nine here on AO3, I'll be ready to continue again. 
> 
> I can only apologise for leaving this for so long, but it makes me really happy to know that some of you guys still remember the story after so long without updating. I really want to get back into this story, I just hope the hiatus hasn't deterred my old readers from giving it a second chance.
> 
> A big thank you for all the kudos and comments so far, it really means a lot to me! :)

Chapter Two

It is not long before Cornelius discovers the new species settling in the jungle. He warns us all to stay away, that we are forbidden from interacting with the settlers in any way. I know immediately that this task will be incredibly taxing. The humans have been on my mind the entire time; their strange ways of communicating and standing and travelling around. In the small in between times when I'm not sleeping, all I can think of is the humans. They're so curious and odd but fascinating at the same time. Especially the Peeta animal.

I've always been very inquisitive, especially where it involves things I don't know about. Kala found it hard to keep up with me as a child as I used to chase baby baboons and dissect insects to discover the inner workings of their systems. I wish I could find the Peeta creature and capture it, find out how it works. What's similar to me and what's not. I wonder if Kala would be mad if I managed to capture it and dissect it . . . Cornelius would go mad, I know that much.

I begrudgingly conclude that I should listen to Cornelius. He does know best, after all. These humans could be predators. Even though we have the advantage in strength and numbers, they could have weapons. Sharp rocks that could slice skin and kill us. I hate to submit and admit defeat but I know when to back down. I don't want to become any more of an outcast than I already am in our leader's eyes.

A few days later, I climb from tree to tree. The clan has settled again and I'm wandering on my own. I stay as close to the top of the trees as I can, so I can feel the heat from the sun on my skin. My hands are chafed, little scrapes scratched deep across my palms and knuckles. I love the feel of the bark against my hands, every wrinkle and groove feeling like it's shaped to the form of my fingers and feet. Kala didn't even have to teach me how to climb, it has always been second nature to me. It's like I'm built for it. No, not built.

I am made for climbing.

It's mid-afternoon when I take a break. I sit on a high branch, where I'm shrouded from the ground but still have full view of the sky. I stare at the gorgeous blue until my eyes sting, until I'm forced to close them in peaceful rest. If I could live my life without sleeping, I would do it, for the darkness behind my eyelids is not worth the replenishment. I want to be forever moving, I want to be forever swinging from tree to tree with Kala and the other apes. I don't want to ever stop, not for anything. Rest is an interference. I do not want it but I need it.

At some point, I must fall asleep, for next thing I know I am being startled awake. Whatever it is that has woken me is not a loud sound, for once I'm alert I have to strain to listen to what it was. A rustle. Directly below me. Kala? Surely the clan are not moving just yet. We don't move until nightfall. Letting my feet drop off the branch, I grab where my feet previously stood with my hands, swinging down onto the one below. I let go again and crouch on the branch right below me. I peer through the gaps in the leaves to find the source of the sound. Another rustle, a lot softer this time. There is still too much obscuring my view so I descend even lower, two or three levels until I can see down to the ground.

It's not Kala.

It's the Peeta creature.

The first thing I see is the golden, fair hair. The sunlight threads through the holes in the leaves and reflects off the yellow strands, setting the animal's head on fire. It sits at the bottom of my tree, holding that strange object it had carried the other day. It is making strange markings, the sort Gale used to make with the blood from the berries but much more careful and intricate. I press my fingers into the bark and crawl down the trunk, getting a better look of the markings it's producing.

The Peeta is marking out a perfect replication of a baboon. Amazing. I grab the nearest branch and wrap myself around it, watching to see what the creature does next. Its movements fascinate me. Smooth but controlled, the image it's creating the exact same to what an actual baboon would look like. The Peeta looks the same, dressed the same, with the same weird contraption on its nose.

A baby baboon appears, as if able to tell that someone is drawing one of its kind. The Peeta creature is clever. It doesn't frighten the baboon and allows it to amble over and examine its work.

"What do you think?" asks the Peeta. The baboon snatches the picture and I wince, horrified by the idea of the markings being destroyed. The Peeta allows it to look at the markings for a moment, not at all worried about it getting ruined. The baby baboon is okay at the beginning but begins to become aggressive with the markings. The Peeta can see this and becomes worried, taking the markings back before it is ripped.

The baboon stares at him for a moment, then at the markings, and starts to ball like the baby it is.

Oh, no. No, no, no.

The Peeta must know what's happening. I wonder as he stands up if he has knowledge of the monkeys and their rituals. I.e. if a baby cries, the clan investigates. They'll be on the Peeta creature in seconds, it won't stand a chance against them all. There's no escape, they'll all attack it. For all they shall see is a creature who has upset their young, even though the young is the one at fault. Cornelius' warning comes into my mind but I can't stay up here and allow the baboons to kill an innocent animal. I could leave now, jump to the next tree and return back to Kala and the rest of the clan but what would that achieve? If I leave the Peeta creature as easy pickings, it's basically the same as allowing a baby gazelle to be pummeled by a lion. Okay, I know that's the rule of the jungle but I can't do it. Not when this animal is so new to me. I want to know more of the Peeta and his other clan members. I have to find out more. Besides, I have always been the lesser creature in the pack, if I capture this Peeta animal, I will be the dominant being, for the first time.

Maybe if I discover more, Cornelius will finally accept me.

I wrench a vine free from the tree trunk, crawling backwards on my haunches to pull it free from the very top. When I look out, I see the trees rustling with the approaching onslaught of baboons. Before the Peeta can escape, I jump from my branch and wind myself around the vine as I fall. As I rush towards the ground, I kick my feet backward so I swing last minute. I wrap my arms around the Peeta animal's middle as I swing, pulling it tight against me as we soar back up to the closest tree branch.

I don't acknowledge the creature or its shock as I drop it onto the branch. I launch back down to a lower branch and carefully watch the baboons as they collect their young and move on. I do not worry about my captive escaping as I made sure we reached a higher branch so it will not climb or escape without my noticing first. As the monkeys vanish I see the Peeta's markings on the ground, lying out in the open just waiting to be ruined.

Gripping the vine tight in my hands, I suck in a breath and jump again, free-falling back toward the ground. I reach out as I swoop across the grass and grab the markings, the vine snapping tight and swinging back in a clean arch back in the direction from which I jumped. I let go of the vine as I pass the branch where I left the Peeta and hurl myself at it. I hit the wood full force, the rough bark scraping my skin and opening fresh wounds. The sting is powerful but I have experienced worse. I grit my teeth and clamour onto the branch, sitting on my haunches in front of the creature I just saved.

I stare at it.

It stares at me.

I notice for the first time that its eyes are blue. Bright like the sky above our heads. Hair like the sun and eyes like sky, I have never seen anything like it. Only these eyes are wide, with an expression I have only seen in the eyes of startled deer. I have frightened the Peeta creature, most likely from my capturing it. Again, I hear Cornelius' warning but I still can't bring myself to heed it. Definitely not now when I'm so close to the species of human.

I thrust my arm out, the one holding the markings, allowing him to take them back. It does, carefully, as if I am easily startled. The thought alone is insulting but I do not dwell on it.

"Thank you," it says.

I don't know how to answer. I haven't spoken in years. I continue to stare at it. Up close, I can make out the smooth contours of its face. A sharply cut jawline, a straight nose that upturns a little at the bottom, plush lips and high cheekbones. I still do not know a gender but still hazard the guess that a Peeta in the human clan is a male.

"I'm Peeta," the creature says gently. The animal's voice is sweet as the honey from the fullest of hives. "Do you have a name?"

I do have a name. I have never said it before except in my own head. I still don't speak. I cannot try to answer, not even hazard a try, because I must seem dominant. If I stammer or trip up, the Peeta will think it is better than me. This cannot happen if I am to earn Cornelius' trust. I continue to stare the creature down. If it recognizes my authority, it will eventually back down. I may have rescued it once but never again.

"Are you on another expedition?" the animal presses.

I do not answer.

I can see something going on behind the Peeta's blue eyes and it eventually says, "Thank you. For saving me. I wouldn't have made it a mile before those monkeys caught up with me."

Thanks. Such an odd thing to say to me. Can't it see that we are different? Why is it talking to me like I'm on an equal level to it? Equal . . . level. Does it believe that we're equals? What a strange thing to think. It's almost . . . welcome.

The Peeta narrows its blue eyes, a thoughtful expression on its features. "Do you . . . live here?" it asks me slowly. I don't know whether to share that information or not. Shouldn't it be clear since I'm just as much an animal to it as it is to me? Is it mocking me? My hesitance must be answer enough for it as it continues, "How long have you been here?"

I don't know. This much I can say honestly. I really don't know.

I crawl forward a little, curious to have a better look at the Peeta creature. My curiosity must silence all other questions it has brewing in its mind as it allows me to take everything in with my eyes without another word. I pick at the strange body covers, wondering why so much clothing is necessary in such warm climates. It's made from the strangest hides. It's incredibly soft and almost silky. Silkier than the webs of the spiders of the jungle. I realize, while I am doing this, that I should satisfy the pressing question regarding gender once and for all by finding out this animal's sex.

Except when my hands go for the top of the animal's leg covers to investigate further, the Peeta intervenes and grabs my wrists. I could easily yank my hands away but look at it with a frown instead. What's its problem? It's not like I wish to mate with it, I just want to figure out the gender. I've seen worse done during mating season with the clan.

"I don't think we know each other well enough for that just yet," the Peeta says. It smiles again and I am filled with warmth.

I cock my head in confusion. Know each other? What is it talking about? How am I to tell it that all I want to know is whether it's a female or a male? I can barely say my own name. I reach out and grab a handful of the fair hair. It's almost as soft as the body covers, if even more so. The Peeta yelps in surprise when I yank on it, trying to decipher the sex myself since it's not going to allow me to find out biologically what gender it is.

I wonder why the creature hasn't tried to fight back. I'm ready for it, my muscles tensed, prepared for a fight. I don't know this animal's skills but, despite its strong-looking arms and body, I figure I could take it. From what I can see, we would be equal opponents. However I am advanced in stealth and in climbing ability. I could easily win a battle with this new species.

"Is there any way you can communicate with me?" the Peeta asks me. I still have a handful of its hair, paused in my confusion over why it doesn't fight back. Why it doesn't retaliate, why it chooses to ask me questions instead of escaping with force like all other animals in the kingdom would, I don't know. Never in my life have I ever happened upon an animal that wouldn't fight back when faced with danger. "Do you know how to speak?"

The Peeta is annoying me. A part of me knows that it's because the question grates on me but I don't acknowledge this. I don't speak, I haven't done for years. I know that if I tried hard enough, a voice would come out in words that are somehow in my head from many a moon ago. What do I say to it, though? Do I tell it that whatever kindness it believes my saving it has come from is gone. It barely existed in the first place. This animal is nothing but my passage to acceptance.

My knuckles are turning white, I'm clutching the Peeta's hair so hard. The pain is evident on the animal's face but it doesn't tell me to let go. Maybe it can see it's in a dilemma, that it's in trouble. Maybe it can see that I am capable of snapping its neck like a twig. Whichever it is, it doesn't mention the agony I'm causing.

Something touches my arm and I realize with a jolt that it's the Peeta animal. I jerk my arm away and shove my elbow against its neck, forcing it against the tree trunk. My heart pounds in my chest, frantic from the panic of thinking it's under attack. Was that an attempt at attack? Has the animal finally figured out that I'm a threat to it? From the startled look in its eyes, it definitely knows.

"What do you want?" The Peeta asks. Its voice is still level and its calmness is kind of infuriating. Why isn't it afraid? Why isn't it fearing me?

I narrow my eyes angrily. I can feel something beating underneath my arm, the creature's blood. Every time it swallows, I feel it. Life is so fragile, made up of blood and bones and organs. I could end this pathetic creature's life in a second if it pushed me enough. I could do it. I will do it.

But I can't.

The blue eyes are watching me in a way I've never been watched before. The Peeta is startled but it is not afraid. It's almost like it's . . . observing me. But why? Everything this animal does confuses me. It's the opposite of every other animal I've interacted with. We don't watch unless hunting. We don't talk unless we are of the same clan or allying groups. My grip on the Peeta is loosening.

"Can you talk?" The Peeta repeats.

My arm drops to my side and hangs there loosely. The Peeta doesn't move, doesn't dare to startle me again. At least the animal is wise. I reach out and take the contraption from its nose. Is it a weapon of some sort? I examine the item and put them at the end of my own nose, tying to discover its purpose. The Peeta blinks and begins to squint at me. This doesn't make sense, all it does it blurr my vision. It is not a weapon, it is a burden.

"They're glasses," the Peeta says helpfully. It reaches towards me and I flinch, my eyes lighting up in fear. I grab its wrist and squeeze tight. The blue eyes study me some more. I hate how I have to stare back. At how hypnotizing the eyes are. "I won't hurt you, I promise." I don't trust it. It could be a ruse. I barely blink as I stare back at the Peeta. I want to communicate that I don't trust him. It's the only way I can tell it for the words won't find their way into my mouth.

The Peeta, however, is persistent.

"They help me see," he says. "I don't know if they'd do you any good." They aren't doing me any good. I take the 'glasses' off but don't give them back to him. Instead I release his wrist and point at him, trying to convey my question through the gesture. What are you? Please tell me, I want to know. Maybe if you understand, I won't hurt you as much.

The Peeta helplessly tries to get what I mean. It's frustrating being unable to communicate. I've never been so mute and I do not like it. "I don't understand," he tells me. I point at his leg covers, where he wouldn't let me go without 'knowing me better', which I still don't fully understand. He looks down at himself, expecting to see something, but when he doesn't, he looks back at me. "What is it you want?"

Oh for the love of apes. I lurch forward and grab a fistful of the creature's top cover, holding it place so it doesn't lash out or escape me. It makes a sound of surprise but I ignore it. I slam it against the tree and shove my hand down the front of the leg covers. I grope around until I find what I'm looking for.

Ah, male.

Definitely male.

I grip the proof maybe a little too hard, this proved by how the Peeta creature welds his eyes shut and bites down on his lip hard. Good. Maybe he'll understand that I don't mess around. When I rip my hand back out of the leg covers, I rip the fabric by accident. The Peeta's eyes are wide, the blue like large lagoons of pure water. He's breathing heavily, his face twisted a little. I don't understand his horror. This is the jungle, this is how things work. Where, exactly, does he come from?

My hand is still twisted in his top cover. We stare at each other. Grey on blue. I want to look away but I have to force myself to do so, instead staring at the place I ripped the bottom covers. There's a pang in my heart. I was foolish to be so forceful, now I have destroyed flawless hides. They could have been a useful resource.

"I really won't hurt you," says the Peeta.

I suddenly want to believe him. His markings still lie on the branch. I unclench my fingers and let go of him, picking the markings up and staring at them. The baboon is beautifully captured. I glance at the Peeta but quickly avert my gaze when I see that he is still watching me. How could an animal have such a strange ability?

I look at his hands. They created these markings. They are not fighting hands. They're peaceful hands.

I try to give him his markings of the baboon back. He shakes his head and smiles.

"You keep it," he tells me.

My heart speeds up. I find myself smiling. The Peeta creature's smile brightens and he risks leaning forward. I jump, nerves on fire, jumping to my feet on the branch in fear. He holds his hands up in surrender and I relax a little.

"I just want my glasses back," he says. The glasses, still in my spare hand, are all he wants. I look at them and back at him. He squints at me. Maybe he really does need them for his vision. Reluctantly, I hand them back. He puts them on and his face lights up in delight. "Much better." He shakily stands on the high branch, keeping his back against the trunk so I'm not threatened. He pushes the glasses up. "Do you have a name?" he asks.

As soon as the last word leaves his mouth, I hear Kala's call. I straighten up and stare into the distance. Oh no. I snatch the vine up and grab the Peeta around the waist before jumping off the branch again. He yells in alarm but thankfully doesn't scream. When we're as close to the ground as we're going to get, I let go of him. He doesn't hurt himself upon impact with the ground but does roll a few meters from the tree before stopping.

I feel his eyes on me as I jump from one vine to the next, leaving him alone. Safe to go back to the females of his clan.

That night there is not darkness in my dreams.

There is the animal known as the Peeta creature.


	3. My Name is Katniss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss encounters the Peeta again, and he confronts her with a startling proposal . . .

Chapter Three

The more I think about him, the more I want to see him again. My primal instincts are on fire and as I recall our encounter, the more I curse myself for not dragging the creature back to my tree as my prisoner. If I imprisoned him, I would only use him for labour and mating. Something tells me that he would be a good labourer and a worthwhile sexual partner. Even if the Delly animal did have claim over the Peeta creature, I know I could snap every bone in such a petit creature to win ownership.

I wonder if a Peeta's skin is pale everywhere, or if it gets darker the further down you go. I wonder if he grows hair in the oddest of places like I do. I wonder if he would be able to make markings of me. I wonder if he would fight back if I forced him into mating with me. All these thoughts and more soar through my brain like a wingless bird seeking asylum.

The Peeta creature confused me in many ways. He did not fight me, he did not try to evade my company, he tried to talk to me, he spoke to me like we're equals . . . no one has ever treated me like their equal but Kala . . . He doesn't know me, how does he know that we're equals? Or do humans treat everyone as their equal? Would the Peeta creature have turned to a dung beetle and asked it if it could speak?

In the trees, I ponder this. The clan are moving and I with them. I don't pause or falter as I swing, keeping one part of my brain focused on travelling and the other focused on my bemusement over the actions of the Peeta creature. I wonder whether he told the other humans of how he was saved from a pack of baboons by a wild ape who resembles them or if he claimed ownership over the escape himself.

Would he tell them of me or just forget about me? The thought is unsettling: that he could forget about me so easily while I'm trapped in a box of never ending thoughts of humans and the Peeta creature. Are all Peeta animals as disorientating as the one I encountered? Or are they a little more relatable?

Are they all as pretty?

I stop completely, swinging onto a branch and sitting there for a while. The clan move on ahead but I know where they're going so I can catch up later. Pretty? Pretty is the words for flowers, for the sun and the grass and the jungle. Pretty is not for anonymous creatures. Why did sort an abnormal thought creep into my mind? Am I tired? Disorientated? Ill?

I wet my lips and cough as hard as I can. "P-P-P-P-P"-I scrunch my face up with the effort. "P-P-P"-Damn it all! I can't do it. I can't even pronounce the animal's pathetic excuse for a species name. I am doomed, never to use my voice for anything other than ape calls.

I will never be able to communicate with an animal as intelligent as the Peeta. Because that's what the Peeta is. Much smarter than I. He can stand up on both legs and hold himself straight. He can use his voice perfectly, his lips can form words I can only dream of being able to produce. This knowledge makes me mad. I want to find him and tear him apart. I want to jump from this tree and attack him, force him to tell me the secrets of being as incredibly impeccable as he.

I don't know how long I stay on my branch, internally ranting at the world around me for stunting my development. That has to be it. I am incompetent because I was not raised in the same part of the jungle as the Peeta and the humans. I wonder if he would take me to his side of the jungle, if I asked him. If he would show me the part that I have so obviously missed, the part that teaches you the secrets of standing and speaking and wearing hides not torn.

When I come to the realization that I've been sitting longer than I probably should be, I still don't move. It's like I am frozen, caught in the winter snow. I am so high up I feel like I could be God, powered with the ability to smite anyone I wanted to. I love how entertaining the idea is so much that I humour it some more. I could dumb down the humans and their petty Peeta creatures, I could make myself higher than them, better than the apes. Strong, impossibly strong. I have to be strong, it's all I have left.

"P-P-P-P"-I clench my fists in anger and scream. My position high in the tree protects me from possible predators. I scream as loud as I can. I roar like a lion, angry and frustrated.

"Tree lady?"

I look down to the source of the voice, stupefied to see the Peeta creature staring up at me from the bottom of the tree. He looks puzzled. Tree lady . . . That must be what he calls me . . . Well, no wonder, I haven't told him my name.

My name's Katniss. It's on the tip of my tongue, struggling to get out.

"Tree lady, are you alright?" asks the Peeta.

My name's Katniss.

I jump from my branch and crouch on the ground a few yards away from the Peeta. I am still weary of him but my curiosity outweighs the worry and I wish to see more of him. If Cornelius saw me, he would not be happy. But it just so happens, Cornelius is not here. As if able to tell that I do not want to be approached, the Peeta holds his position and doesn't move closer.

"Is everything alright?"

Why do you care?

"You saved my life," says the Peeta.

My eyes widen. How did he . . . ?

"I can see it in your eyes," he explains. "You can convey a lot with your eyes. The eyes are the windows to the soul, after all."

The eyes are not the windows to the soul they are the doors, beware what you allow to enter.... That's what Kala always said. I don't know if I want the Peeta snooping around in my soul. I back off a little and glare. 

Stop it. I do not want you in my head.

"How else am I to speak to you?" the Peeta asks.

You don't.

"That's hardly acceptable."

I roll my eyes. Welcome to the jungle. Nothing's acceptable, it sucks.

The Peeta chuckles and smiles. "I suppose you're right about that," he says. "There's literally nowhere else wilder than the jungle. How can I say things like 'acceptable' in a world where baby animals are killed for food nearly everyday."

I look away. Our customs can be shameful, I'll give him that, but I do not wish to get into the politics of the jungle. You do not care where your next meal comes from as long as you get it. Nothing is worse than starvation. Except death, maybe.

"I'm sorry, I must sound like such a spoiled brat," the Peeta apologises.

I tilt my head. What does he mean by 'spoiled brat'?

"Sometimes I feel like you understand what I'm saying, the next it seems like you don't have a clue," says the Peeta.

My eyes fall upon the leg covers, the ones I had ripped the other day. They are fixed, not a single sign of my tear there at all. I crawl forward and squint, amazed by how well my rip has been mended. I then look at my own covers, all torn and ripped to pieces. The Peeta watches me carefully, as if I am a bomb about to explode.

"These are a different pair," he helpfully tells me. "A friend of mine is mending the other pair."

I look at him sharply. Is his friend the Delly? Or one of the other animals in his pack? The Peeta sees the fire in my eyes but doesn't back down. His smile burns into my skin, hotter than the sun. I suddenly wish I could say his name. Not even his name, maybe my own. Show him that I am just as capable as he is. That my covers may not mend and I may not have other sets but I am just like him.

Instead, I draw myself up. Bones crack in my back and legs as I straighten my posture and cock my head at the Peeta. I feel ridiculous standing the way I am but I do it anyway, showing this male that I am just like him and I will not be dominated. Because that has to be what he wants. If not to fight or kill, then the next possible outcome has to be to mate. But I am not going to be dominated, especially not by another species.

"Wow," the Peeta breathes. "That's amazing."

The praise makes me twitch in surprise. The only person to have ever praised me before is Kala and on a few occasions Gale. I don't know whether I like it coming from the Peeta or not. In one way it can be viewed as condescending, on another it could be viewed as unbearably sweet. Isn't standing common for the humans, though? Why would the Peeta view it as amazing?

We are of same height. I'm staring right into his eyes, into the sky blue crystals embedded in his lids. I reach out to touch the crystal but the Peeta jerks his head away before I can. "You can't touch people there," he tells me.

Oh. Okay. Maybe that's why they're so mesmerising. Because they aren't meant to be touched. I reluctantly retract my hand and, just to be sure, I point at the leg covers as well, the tip of my finger pointed right where I checked his gender.

Peeta nods. "Yes. Not there either."

Right. Human customs are fascinating but very confusing.

I want to see if my thoughts are right, if all the Peeta's skin is pale everywhere, if it gets darker the further down you go. If there's hair in odd places like me, if he'd be able to make markings of me. If he'd protest if I forced him to mate with me. I don't know how to find out though as if touching the leg covers is enough of a sin, then forcing the covers off to examine the skin underneath is probably even worse.

"Are you alright?" The Peeta asks, repeating the same question from earlier.

I nod, knowing that there is no possible way I could explain why I was screaming. Besides, I'm okay enough, it's not like I was yelling over anything serious. Just frustration. And frustration is one of those things that need tons of explanation. I can't begin to explain it, even if I wanted to, which I don't.

"I can't pretend that I understand who you are or why you act the way you do but I really would like to know more," The Peeta tells me. I don't know how to answer this so I just stare instead. "I just wish there was a way you could tell me more about yourself."

In a way, I guess, so do I.

"Do you live here? Is this place your home?"

I nod again and smile. Yes, the jungle's my home. I couldn't imagine living anywhere else.

The Peeta is intrigued by this. "Have you lived here all your life?" he asks.

I nod.

"Do you know anything about the world beyond the jungle?"

Beyond the jungle? What's he talking about? There isn't anything beyond the jungle. The jungle is my whole world. I must be frowning because the Peeta realises that I don't know what he's talking about. He steps closer to me, suddenly invigorated, but holds himself back when I back away wearily. I do not want him so near. My curiosity has only been spiked once concerning this creature's anatomy and I do not wish for it to happen again.

"You don't know, do you?" he concludes. His face lights up with excitement. "I could show you, if you want. There's a great big world out there, just waiting to be explored. The jungle is only a small part of it."

I eye him suspiciously. His words sound amazing but wholly unlikely and I am hesitant to believe him. A world beyond the jungle, filled with new sites to be explored? It sounds amazing but none too daunting. I can't leave Kala behind anyway, I would never do that to her. I shake my head and the Peeta's face falls.

"Why not?" he asks me. He realises that I cannot answer this and nods in understanding. "Okay. I know I should respect your decision." He pushes his fingers through his hair and sighs. "My expedition is going to be here for a week more. If you want, you can come and find me. We're not far from that abandoned cabin, do you know it?"

I nod. A month ago I wouldn't have known it but now I do.

The Peeta nods and smiles again. "Come find me if you change your mind. There are so many adventures out there, tree lady. You just have to take that leap to find them."

As I watch him leave, only one thing comes into my head. Something I want to tell him so desperately it almost hurts.

My name is Katniss.


	4. Expedition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss caves and visits the Peeta at his expedition camp.

Chapter Four

It doesn't take a lot to find the 'expedition' camp the Peeta spoke of. In fact, it's almost insulting how quickly I find it. The humans are obviously very foolish creatures, taking rest in such an open area. A tiger or other predator could find them as easily as I and rip the place to shreds. The thought of the Peeta creature hurt, bleeding on the floor, makes my stomach lurch. No, that will not happen. I will not allow it. I consider the creature my property now and I will not allow anyone else to take it from me. Not a tiger, or predator, not even that silly Delly creature.

The human camp is fascinating. Their shelters are made of an alien material, supported by poles and held in a roof-like structure. There doesn't seem to be many humans as I make my way through camp without being spotted effortlessly. I use stealth even though it doesn't seem to be needed. So much space with so little opponents. How odd.

I don't know where to find the Peeta. I don't know whether this is good or bad. It could be considered bad as he is the only human I wish to seek and it could be good because I still don't know what I'm here for. I just wandered away from the others for a while. Kala scolded me the last time but what does she expect? I have found a captivating species, and an enchanting male who may well be a future mating consideration. Granted, Kala doesn't know this but if she did she'd probably lose her head anyway.

Kala has always taught me to fight for what I want. I want the Peeta creature, even if he doesn't want me, and I will get what I want. Rules of the jungle. Fight or be fought. I don't care about the Delly creature or whatever ownership she may have. I intend to kill her for her mate. Funny, it's normally the other way around. Male gorillas would battle other males for their mates, not the other way around. However, just because females have never fought before doesn't mean there can't be a first time.

I happen upon a tent that's green in colour. I pause to admire the colour. It's amazing, this fabric, I have never seen anything like it. In the glorious greens of the jungle too! Astounding. Tied to one of the supporting poles is an orange silky material. Wow. It's just like the colour the sky turns at sunset. I wonder how such colours are captured.

There is movement inside the tent and I freeze. I am not afraid. If the Delly animal came out right this moment I would crush her skull in my fist if necessary. I stand in the parting of the tent flaps, interested on who is inside.

My heart soars as I see the Peeta appear. I step closer to the flaps for a better view and watch him in avid curiosity. He walks aimlessly around the interior of his shelter, slipping the tiny connectors out of the black silky top cover that went over the white. He takes it off completely and folds it up, putting it on what looks like a resting place. He proceeds to do the same with the connectors at the end of his sleeves and down the front of the white top cover.

My eyes widen and I step forward, taking hold of the green material and pulling it back for a better look. The Peeta's back is to me now. He is standing before a structure-not unlike one I seen pushed against the wall in the abandoned 'cabin' as he called it-which has an object on top of a spherical shape. The Peeta-still unaware of my presence-takes off the white top cover. In a way, I should be laughing at his inability to notice my being just outside. His instincts must be blunted, putting him at great disadvantage. Another thing I have that he doesn't. I am sharp and he is not.

There's a twinge in my lower stomach as my eyes take in the strong muscles in the Peeta creature's back. My blood heats up and sweat builds up on my lower lip. Why wear such modest top covers when you have such a robust build? I know that my body is strong and I do not mind wearing covers that flaunt this.

I realise that the Peeta is washing. The spherical object holds water, which he dips a cloth into and rubs against his skin. What a peculiar way of doing it. The gorillas and I just go to the river and bathe there.

I lean my weight too much to the right, just the tiniest of bits, and my foot presses against a branch. I am horrified when it snaps, the sound amplified in the silence. I've never broken twigs before. I am not that careless.

The Peeta hears me-the blunted instincts not dumb enough to miss it-and turns around in surprise. His disconcerted gaze softens when he sees me standing on the edge of his shelter. "Hello," he says, his voice warm. "I didn't think you would come."

What makes you say that? I try using my eyes to communicate with him, since he did say that he could sometimes read what I want to say to him through them.

"I don't really know," he shrugs. "I just thought I might have scared you off by offering to show you my world."

I scoff. Scared? He barely made a dent in my armour, let alone scare me!

"Okay, I that was probably the wrong choice of wording," the Peeta admits. "You could probably scare me more before breakfast than I could in a year."

I grin. Damn right I could.

"Don't just stand there, you're welcome to come in," the Peeta tells me.

I nod and step inside, at wonder of the complicated interior of his shelter. There's structures everywhere and I wonder what the function of each one is. I run my finger along the smooth wood of a box-like thing. The Peeta gestures at it and explains. "It's a wardrobe," he explains. "It holds clothes."

Clothes? Does he mean covers? I point at the two top covers he had laid on the sleeping area and Peeta nods. "Yes," he says. "Clothes."

How interesting. I wish I could ask him why he covers himself with such covers. I know my strongest areas are my legs and arms, as they are muscled and sturdy, and that is why I leave them uncovered. A warning to other creatures that I am capable of battle and will win over whoever challenges me. Why doesn't the Peeta do the same? A torso as resilient as his would be an excellent warning to possible predators. Or is that not how the humans work?

I am staring blatantly at him and he flushes pink in confusing embarrassment. I don't understand why. Is my interest too much for him to handle? How different are the humans? I lift my eyes to meet his. "Sorry," he apologises. "I'm all over the place."

What? No you're not. You're right here.

He must see my confusion. The Peeta chuckles. "It's a figure of speech."

A what of speech?!

On the structure in which the water's holder sits, there's a captured image in a wooden holder. I lean forward and squint at it. It's an image of all the people I saw when I was in the tree that first day I saw the Peeta. The younger girl draws my attention the most. Was her name Prim? I can't remember all that clearly. The only names I really recall are Peeta and Delly.

"That's Primrose," the Peeta explains. "She's the reason we're all here. That abandoned cabin belongs to her parents. They went on an expedition here sixteen years ago and were killed. Primrose had been left with her auntie at the time because she was only a baby and never really knew them. She wanted to come here to have a look at her parent's property. She still doesn't know why they died to this day."

How tragic. It must be hard to become head of the family before you even learn to walk. I run my thumb along the length of Primrose's image. She's an attractive girl. It's incredible how she has been able to lead her family on her own and arrange an . . . expedition?

"Mind-boggling, isn't it?" asks the Peeta.

I nod. It is. I would never have been able to make it on my own without Kala's help. Maybe the humans are stronger than I first imagined. This only increases my interest. I desperately want to discover more of human customs. I wonder if I went to where they come from for a while and promise Kala that I will return, would she allow me to go? She's always been very overprotective of me but it's about time I discovered this mysterious part of the jungle that houses the humans and has bred such strange customs.

It's about time I made my own decisions.

I turn to the Peeta creature, the twinge sparking in my lower stomach again when we are facing each other. I hadn't realised that as soon as I had entered the tent, I had straightened up to mimic the Peeta's posture. It is becoming easier. My lower back aches a little but it is not difficult. I reach out and smooth my hand along his shoulder. The Peeta tenses a little but doesn't remove my hand like he had done a few times before. I think it's because a part of him is still worried that I'll explode and slit his throat.

I slip my hand down and press it against his chest, feeling his heart beating underneath my hand. I hope he gets what I'm trying to tell him.

"You want to come with me?" he asks.

I nod, delighted that he understands.

"Are you sure?"

I nod again. Kala may miss me but I will come back. Eventually. Once I have learned the ways of the humans.

Once I have learned more about the Peeta.


	5. The Delly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss meets the rest of the human expedition camp . . .

Chapter Five

"What is that, exactly?!"

The Delly's voice grates on my nerves. I stand behind the Peeta, eyeing up all five females wearily. They are just as weary of me as I am of them and I can understand how they may be disconcerted. However, what I do not understand is the Delly's need to screech like a banshee. You don't express fear, you suppress it so your opponent doesn't see it.

"She is not an 'it'," the Peeta says, immediately to my defence. I can only see the back of his head and I don't know whether to be offended or honoured by his need to defend me. I can defend myself.

"It's a she?" the Clove asks slowly.

"Yes, she is," the Peeta explains slowly. I meet the Clove's eyes and I see warmth. I know instantly that she will not be a bother. I see a flame lit behind those brown orbs but I do not see unnecessary ignition. Not a threat.

"Is she from another expedition?" the Leevy asks. She stands the furthest away, arms folded and mouth in a thin line. In her eyes I see peace but unhappiness. Also not a threat but I do not believe she will be all that friendly either.

"No," the Peeta says carefully. "She can't speak but from what I can tell, she's been raised in the jungle. I want to take her back with us so I can show her the world beyond the trees." Beyond the trees? These creatures don't live in the jungle? I flash the Peeta an alarmed look but he smiles warmly at me and my nerves relax a little.

"Back to England?!" the Delly screeches. "Are you crazy?!"

I don't like the tone she's using to address the Peeta. She's abrasive and sharp. Unnecessarily so. The Peeta, however, simply takes it on the chin and doesn't pick a fight about it. Maybe that's why these animals are so well presented. They don't pick as many fights as the apes would do. "Yes, back to England. I think she could benefit greatly from learning about what goes on beyond the jungle," the Peeta calmly explains.

"Primrose, tell him he's mad!" the Delly declares, spinning around and addressing the blonde girl from the picture the Peeta had in his tent.

The Primrose creature is silent. She stands as tall as her petite height will allow, with chin tilted toward the sky and eyes alight with welcome and warmth. After a moment's thought, she speaks up. "I think Peeta's right," she says. "The girl is obviously like us, she just needs help."

"Help and a hairbrush," the Clove comments.

"It's going to take more than a hairbrush," the Delly scoffs. "What shape is that anyway? Is that some sort of braid?" What are they talking about? My fur? My arm goes to my head, to touch my tangle of fur, and almost immediately the Delly squeals, her face twisting in disgust. "Ewwww, look at her armpits!"

"Oh my god Delly, what are you expecting? There aren't razors in the jungle!" the Clove exclaims. I realise they are talking about my arm fur, which I had always believed was something all animals had. Do the female humans not grow arm fur?

"Don't listen to her," the Peeta says to me gently. "She's a little . . . eccentric."

"Peeta!" the Delly shouts.

"He has a point," the Leevy says.

"Shut up!" The Delly throws her hands in the hair in what I can only decipher as exasperation. "Why am I the only one seeing sense? We can't bring a stray back to England! Think of the rumours!"

"There won't be any rumours," the Madge says, smiling at me just like the Peeta did, minus the effect it had on my heart. "I'll help her become presentable before we touch down in England. We'll say we met her on another expedition. I'll even lend her one of my dresses, which will be a temporary loan as I assume you will be fully capable of providing for her once we reach England, Peeta?"

"Aren't we getting into this very fast?!" the Delly yells before Peeta can open his mouth. "We don't even know if she's carrying diseases or not. She could have did it monkeys for all we know and have ape chlamydia!" I don't understand what the Delly is trying to say but judging by her tone, it is very negative. I should break that pretty little face of hers. Then she'd be destroyed and the Peeta could be mine.

"I'm a doctor, Delly," the Primrose reminds the loud girl. "I will check her over."

"We can't leave her behind, anyways," the Clove adds. "I wouldn't be able to sleep at night knowing we left a defenceless girl in the jungle to be eaten by who knows what."

"Look at the size of the muscles!" the Delly exclaims. "She's far from defenceless."

"Delly, please stop shouting," the Peeta says. I admire his ability to stay calm and measured, knowing that if I had my voice myself I'd probably be roaring right back at the Delly with double the ferocity and volume. "She's a woman, just like you or any other. She's obviously missed out on a lot of opportunities that we have had in life and I will not allow her to miss out on anymore. I am not leaving her behind. Do you understand me, Delly?"

Delly rolls her eyes and doesn't answer.

Despite the calm in his voice, you can sense the edge in it as Peeta pushes the point. "Do. You. Understand. Me. Delly?"

"Don't you dare talk to me like that, Mellark, do you hear me?!" Delly snaps. She charges forward, full of fury, and I lurch into action. I've seen such a feral glint in the eyes of the angriest of monkeys, the ones who have the shortest of fuses and rip apart even the tiniest shimmer of a threat.

I push the Peeta behind me and make myself as tall as possible, muscles tensed and prepared for a fight. The Delly stumbles to a stop and stares at me in complete horror. Even the other girls look surprised. I'm breathing heavily, putting every ounce of animosity I feel for this girl into one deathly stare:

Touch a hair on his head and I will break your neck in two.

The Peeta lays his hand on my shoulder. "It's okay," he tells me. I shake my head. No it's not. This girl needs to be reminded of who rules this jungle. I am higher than her on the food chain and I will crush her like a bug. "Please, don't. It's okay, I promise."

"What? Is she your new bodyguard, Peeta?" the Delly spits acidly. "Scared of getting hit by a girl?"

"Not now, Delly, please," the Peeta says tiredly. He pauses, immediately realising what the Delly has just done. She has just admitted out loud that she intended to hit him. She hits him, as in multiple times. I am past the point of rational thought and don't care that she is no longer charging at him. I launch myself anyway.

The Delly screams and runs away. I want to give chase but two strong arms wrap around my waist and pulls me back. The Peeta has me and, no matter how hard I struggle, he somehow keeps hold of me. "Please, calm down! It's okay!" he shouts, trying to get his voice heard over the Delly's screaming and my struggling.

"She's feral!" The Delly roars.

"Shut up Cartwright, you provoked her," the Madge rebukes.

The Peeta puts me down but before I can chase after the Delly, he grabs my wrists and pulls me over to face him. "Hey, look at me, hey, hey, it's okay," he says gently. I'm still trying to be freed but his eyes have somehow captured my attention, despite my desire to rip the Delly's head off her shoulders. "It's okay, just keep looking at me."

I do. And my anger melts away. My muscles relax and my rage disappears. "She hurts you," my stare says. "Hit her back."

"I can't. That's not how it works," he replies.

"Leave her then."

"It's not that easy." The Peeta smiles at me. I smile back. "Please don't hurt Delly. I know she can be a pain but that's just the way she is."

"I want to wring her neck in."

"I'm sure you're not the first," the Peeta says warmly.

"Something tells me you're right."

The Peeta laughs. He reaches up and brushes a stray hair away from my face. I grab his wrist on instinct. "Sorry," he apologises. My fingers squeeze his wrist tight but I release him, not sure why I even grabbed him in the first place. I glance at the other girls, who have gathered in a tight huddle, obviously discussing something of great importance.

"Delly . . . is she your mate?"

The Peeta looks away. "I suppose that's a way of putting it."

"Do you procreate?"

"Not yet," he tells me. This makes me grin. I can't help it. It means I can still claim him. All I have to do is rid the Delly of her ownership. Shouldn't be too hard, considering the way she ran away from me, screaming like a coward.

I wonder what mating with the Peeta would be like. I am clearly the more dominant being, since I must fight for the partner I want, and I am sure that the same rules apply when it comes to making me with child. Would the Peeta allow me to do so? If the Delly were out of the way and I had full control over him? Would he allow me to do it?

"Peeta!"

The Peeta and I turn to the source of the Primrose's voice. She stands a little away from the rest of the group, where the Delly seems to be sulking. "She can come with us," she says.

The Peeta grins and looks back at me, eyes alight with joy. "You can come to England," he tells me.

His grin is contagious. I wonder what this England is like. I wonder if it is far from here.

I wonder if once I go there, if I will ever want to come back.


	6. Saying Goodbye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss spends more time at the expedition camp, and says goodbye to the one person she loves most.

Chapter Six

The Peeta tries to leave while the Primrose makes sure I am not infected. I don't know why but not having him around worries me. I don't trust anyone else in this expedition. Only the Peeta. He is the only person in this entire campsite who has shown me any acceptance and, even though I am fully capable of defending myself against any of the females here, I am reluctant for the Peeta to leave.

"It's alright," he tells me when I grab his arm in the Primrose's tent. "Prim is a fully trained doctor, she knows what she's doing."

"Then why can't you just stay here?"

"Because . . ." the Peeta trails off, scratching the back of his head in an almost flustered manner. "Because this is more of a female affair."

"I doubt that matters. I don't care what sort of affair it is."

"You might not but I don't think I can really be here. For the sake of my own moral high ground," the Peeta tries to explain. "It feels like I'd almost be taking advantage. Besides, you're completely safe in Primrose's hands, I swear."

I don't deny that the Peeta is being truthful but I don't want him to leave. I am not afraid but I feel like if I were in his presence then I would be less likely to lash out on the Primrose creature. I need him to tell me what's custom and whether she is actually making violent advances. "I don't want to reduce myself to bribery, Peeta, but if you don't stay I'm not going to be held responsible for what I do to this woman in your absence."

There's something I can't read in the Peeta's eyes. He knows I'm just being honest, why would I lie about something like that? He sighs but doesn't seem at all exasperated. "Prim isn't a threat," he repeats. "You shouldn't have any reason to hurt her."

We're standing outside the Primrose's tent, the sun having made its way to the middle of the sky to pound down on the tiny expedition camp like a brutal God trying to burn us all into nothing but ash. The heat is nothing compared to extreme temperatures the jungle can experience but it's obviously taking its toll on the humans. The other females are walking around with fanning devices, trying to reduce their skin's ability to sweat. The Delly has made it clear that she is not happy with myself being near her mate in any shape or form. Even now I can feel her eyes smouldering into the side of my head, making sure I don't do anything deemed unacceptable to the human she has claimed. She is persistent, I'll give her that. It's almost amusing that she doesn't understand how much I am fully capable of. Whenever she tries to attack, I'll be ready.

"Why are you so eager not to stay? Are you already sick of me?" The thought is alarming and fear seizes my heart. Could the Peeta already be sick of me? Am I really that horrible to be around?

"Oh God, of course not!" the Peeta exclaims. "I just . . . It's just . . ." He chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully, trying to find the right words to come to mind. "I'm not sick of you, I'd never be sick of you! I just didn't want to . . ."

"If you don't come with me, I'm not going." As stubborn and clingy as it sounds, I do not trust any of these girls and would rather have the Peeta in the tent with me to be, as the Primrose had put it, 'examined'.

The Peeta sighs again but this time smiles at the end of it. "Okay," he relents. "I'll go with you."

Inside the Prim's tent is a lot more technical than what I saw in the Peeta's. There are many more structures inside the tent, many more storage cabinets like the wardrobe that holds clothes only with minor differences. The Primrose stands beside what looks like a tall cot, wearing a white overall that covers her pale blue single covers.

"Hello . . ." The Primrose looks at me, then to the Peeta, ". . . does she have a name?"

"I'm sure she does," says the Peeta, "but I do not know what it is."

My name's Katniss.

The Primrose nods and pats the tall cot with a smile. "Just pop on here and we'll get started," she says.

I look at the Peeta, just to be sure, and when he nods so encouragingly at me I know that this is safe. The Primrose will not hurt me. I sit on the tall cot the only way I know how: by crouching on the mattress. Despite the nature of the examination that proceeds to take place, the Peeta stays by my side, as requested. He modestly looks away for some parts and I could swear his face changes colour from powder white to pale rose pink. I'm not sure why, since the Primrose is only checking me for diseases. At least, that's what I think she's doing.

"There's some minor cuts and bruises but from what I can tell she hasn't contracted anything from her time in the jungle," the Primrose explains.

"Well, that's great, isn't it?" the Peeta beams at me and his happiness is contagious. Even if I had been infected with some sort of illness, I hadn't felt it or been affected by it so I hardly care but the Peeta's delight is extremely endearing. "You're completely clean!"

Clean? Clean is something I'm very far from. However, the Peeta's misuse of the term makes me smile and I cannot resist the small quirk up of my lips. It seems like the Peeta creature always has that effect on me.

After the examination, the Peeta takes me back to his tent. I know I should be worried, that I should always be on guard, even with him. I should trust the Peeta as much as I trust the females, which is barely, if at all. But I don't. I give him an extra level of trust because I know that he is not a fighter. Even if he did turn on me, I could easily fight him off. But there's something deep in my subconscious that knows that he won't. 

Why?

His hands.

Between myself and the Peeta, there is a wall of muscle. From my years in the jungle, I know how to identify a threat through their body stature. Whether I can take them on or whether I should submit. On first glance, the Peeta was a threat. All I saw was muscle and girth. I thought in a fight we would be evenly matched, him with the slightest of advantages. But it didn't take me long to realize that this was wrong. His hands, when I handed him the sketchpad back, were not the hands of a fighter. Besides, if they were, then how could they perfectly replicate the image of a baboon with nothing but a tiny piece of charcoal?

The Peeta does not have fighting hands.

And I know when in his presence, I shall be safe.

Inside the Peeta's tent, he sits me down on his cot and rummages around for something inside one of his wooden structures. I cannot take my eyes off him and I watch his every move, right until he sits down beside me. He is holding his sketchpad which he has opened up to a specific page. On the page, I see an unfamiliar image. It is of a large mechanical object with wings almost like a bird.

"This is an aeroplane," he explains to me. "This will take us from the jungle to London, where I'm from."

Aeroplane. As in the air around us? I cock my head in confusion. What does he mean?

"It flies," the Peeta says. He points upwards, to the top of the tent. "Through the sky?"

Like a bird?

"Exactly like a bird."

How can such a mode of transport even exist? What world does the Peeta and the other humans come from that those without wings can fly? I want to try to voice this question. Not with my eyes, but with my voice. As usual, however, my voice catches in my throat and shrivels up like a rotten piece of fruit.

"I want to make you aware of all this now, so it won't come as that much of a shock when it's time to leave," the Peeta explains. "I don't want to scare you."

Scared? Me? His naivety is laughable. I have soared through the trees like a bird, the sky does not frighten me. It would take a lot more than the sky to scare me. The ground is ten times more mysterious than the air. "We will fly? To . . . London?" The word, 'London' is alien to me. It can't be part of the jungle. I've never heard of it before. Ever.

"Yes," the Peeta says. "Madge will help by lending you clothes and you can sleep in my spare room."

"Will the Delly be there?"

The Peeta's eyes are unreadable. "Yes," he finally answers. "She will."

"So she is your mate?" I will keep proposing this question until he answers me properly. 'You could say that' isn't going to cut with me. I notice the Peeta playing with a golden band around his finger. How had I never noticed such an extravagant item before? I grab his hand and hold the band up to my eyes. I peer over his hand at him. "What is this?"

"It's a ring," he hesitantly tells me. "A . . . wedding ring."

Wedding ring? What does that mean?

As if sensing my perplexion, the Peeta elaborates. "Delly gave it to me. She's . . . my wife."

That word. 'Wife'. I have heard it before. Used by other animal clans. Wives are one half of a married couple. The other half's a . . . husband. "You've been civilly joined with her?" I ask this question with anger. It boils my blood that a creature with such potential has been tied down to a squealing mess such as the Delly. There's been marriages in the jungle but they are easily breached. If you kill one of the joined partners then the one left alive is yours. The idea of killing the Delly is becoming more and more appealing as time grows on.

"Yes," the Peeta reluctantly answers. "It was an arranged marriage."

"You don't love her then?"

"I didn't say that."

"So you do?"

"I didn't say that either."

"How can you love such a woman anyway? She is not a woman, she is a worm. A piece of bacteria on the skin of this glorious world. A man like you deserves a woman who is strong, someone who is brave and can look after you. A woman who doesn't raise her hand to you. A woman who can fight and protect you. A woman like me."

Of course, it's hard to communicate all of this to the Peeta through my eyes and all he really understands from my sharp gaze is that I really don't like Delly. "She grows on you," he says, trying to sound hopeful.

"I'm sure she does. Just like a parasite."

"Can you give her a chance?" he asks from me.

"Trust me, I've given her many."

"One more?"

I look into his eyes and find desperate pleading. My heart melts and I clench my jaw. I don't want to give the Delly another chance, she's had too many, but it's something the Peeta really wants from me. And for him, I feel like I would do anything. Why I am not entirely sure but there is few goodness in this world and I'll be damned if I don't protect what little there is. The Peeta is the living embodiment of goodness and I will protect him. This much I know for certain.

I am about to answer him when a shrill scream breaks through the atmosphere. It can be immediately identified as the Delly and I wonder if she has stumbled upon a tiny lizard in her tent. The thought is amusing but when I follow the Peeta out of his tent and out into the open, I realise it is not a lizard.

It's Kala.

Kala has invaded the camp, most likely looking for me. The Delly is in the arms of the Clove, shrieking her head off while Kala peacefully passes. I brush past the Peeta and make myself clear. I call out to her. "Kala!"

Kala's head snaps to me and her eyes light up. She runs to me and wraps her arms around me. I nestle my face into her fur and swallow the lump in my throat. She came looking for me. She came looking for me because I didn't come back to her. When we part, she smacks me. The burn is intense and I grit my teeth. I deserved that. I shouldn't have left without telling her.

"You scared me to death!" she growls at me.

"I'm sorry. I should have told you."

"Come back with me now." Kala tries to take my hand but I pull away. The hurt that flashes in her eyes breaks my heart. "Katniss?"

"Mama, look at these people," I say to her. "They look like me. Maybe they can tell me what I am. Where I really come from. I have to find out about my past. Please."

"Katniss, you don't need to know about your past. Haven't I done enough for you?"

I touch her furry face with my hand and smile through my teary eyes. "Of course you have. But I'm old enough now to find out about my roots. I have to do this Mama. Don't take me away from may be my only chance. I might even begin to fit in, for once."

"You fit in with us!" protests Kala.

"Mama, don't," I whisper. "You know that's not true. Please, I'm begging you. Don't take me away from this."

Kala smiles weakly. She brushes her thick fingers through my braid and affectionately pats my head. "My little Katniss," she says. "My baby girl."

"You'll always be my mama Kala," I tell her. "No one will ever take that from you, I swear."

Kala pulls me into her arms one last time. "My little Katniss," she repeats into my hair. "Be free little bird and never forget me."

"Never," I promise. "It's not possible."

When she has disappeared into the trees, I realise that there is one thing I was never strong enough for. The one thing that muscles could never fight. That words cannot heal and fists cannot fix. I was never strong enough to say goodbye. I crumple to the ground and bury my face into my knees. I cry shamelessly, balling like the wild animal I am. It is unlikely that I will ever see my mama again. I will never see my Kala again for I have chosen to seek the path of independence. My mama is gone forever.

Arms wrap around me and I know that they are the Peeta's. For once, I allow it and don't fight him off. I need the little piece of intimacy and I press my face against his chest, wetting his covers. I shake and sob in his arms, shaking like the pathetic little creature that I truly am, when stripped down to the barest of forms.

"It'll be okay," the Peeta shushes. He rubs my back and whispers sweet nothings. I listen to every single one and cling to them like my life depends on them all.

And again, the thought comes into my head. The thing I want to say to him most.

My name is Katniss. Peeta, please hear me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hi guys! A couple of things to talk about here!
> 
> I got a review asking a very relevant question: How can Katniss understand English if she has lived in the jungle her whole life? I am not going to lie to you guys, it was definitely for my own convenience as a writer than anything else. If Katniss didn't understand English, then her thoughts wouldn't be in English and her narrative wouldn't be in English. I felt that not only would it make it more difficult for me to write her without a language, apart from the language of the monkeys, but it would also make it difficult for the reader to interpret. I feel like it is a venture more suited to a writer much more skilled than I to try to write her with no language at all. I hope this doesn't put some of you off; or take you out of the story at all. If it does, I completely understand, of course.
> 
> Also, I'm back at college today so my updates will probably be coming later in the day than usual. I'll still update on Mondays, but it will just be later on on the Monday. I hope that's okay! :)


	7. London

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss spends a day in the Peeta's house to gain her bearings of human life.

Chapter Seven

I have not been a part of the female community of the human species long, but I already despise it. The only highlight has been the journey on the aircraft, where I flew high above the trees, higher than I have ever swung before. I got to witness what I thought had been the only world in existence but in truth had only been a small sector of a much larger world. The Peeta had creature laughed when I pointed out the window at the tiny landscape below me, wearing what had to be the widest smile I have ever worn in my small life.

However, ever since I have landed in 'London', I have not worn a smile of any description. I have been plucked, tugged and soaked. The Madge was animal lucky that Peeta promised me she wasn't a threat before I went to her or else she'd have lost an eye. I don't understand why it's socially unacceptable for me to keep my body hair. It is required for warmth and now that I have lost it I feel like a plucked chicken. And don't get me started on the female's covers! They wear covers that sweep to the ankles, covering the legs and feet. How am I supposed to make others aware of my strength if most of my assets are hidden? How are they supposed to know that I could beat them in a fight? That I am more dominant than them?

I cannot comprehend the extravagance of 'London'. There are barely any trees and the 'streets' are packed tight with huge structures that the Peeta tells me are 'houses'. Houses are where the humans live. The sturdiness of their shelters amaze me. They must not worry when the weather is angry and untamed. Their shelters would easily protect them. I am taken to where the Peeta takes shelter. He shares his shelter with the Delly but I do not bother to even give her right of ownership in my mind.

"This is your room," the Peeta explains, showing me into a room that resides on a whole other level to the bottom rooms. "We don't often have guests so pardon the bareness of it all."

The room is strange. It is big, not as big as the jungle or the forest floor but larger than I had anticipated. There are many structures, similar to those that had been in Peeta's tent. The cot is much bigger though and the mattress reaches my waist. It's huge. Surely this was designed for more than one person. A couple or family, maybe? It still looks like it could house more . . . I look at Peeta incredulously and press my pointer finger into my chest. "This whole area is just for me?"

"Yeah," the Peeta answered. He rubs the back of his neck, trying to be inconspicuous about his nervousness. "It's normally for couples but we haven't had couples around here for a while." When I quirk at eyebrow at him, he says, "Delly hasn't been prepared to receive for a while now."

"Why's that?"

"She's had the fever, only recently recovered. The trip to the jungle, it was a means of getting away from the . . . let's say pressures of the city," the Peeta explains to me. I pick at my clothes as I look around the room with increasing wonder. "You can borrow some of Delly's clothes until we are able to buy you your own."

The Delly? Ha! Her covers would not fit me! She's too thin and bony. Her covers would tear over my muscles, there's no way I would even be capable of squeezing an arm in! The Peeta must see my incredulity as he smiles sheepishly and rubs the back of his neck again, a seeming habitual quirk he can't shake when he's nervous.

"Delly is a seamstress, I'm sure she can let a few old pieces of clothing out a little," he explains. "Maybe a couple of old dresses that she hasn't worn in years. She does buy a lot, after all, most only for the fact that they were a bargain."

Bargain. What an odd way of using that word. The only bargains made in the jungle is when a bear catches a fish and we must haggle for its ownership. Is that how covers are obtained in the Peeta's world? Through haggling? 

"Do Delly and yourself share a room?" I find myself spontaneously asking. I am not used to these creatures customs, especially concerning partnership. All I know is that the golden band around the Peeta's finger is a symbol of some sort, to represent the fact that he is a married male.

"Uh, yeah, we do," answers the Peeta.

I sit on the edge of the large cot and play with the silky fabric of the blanket between my fingers. "If you are civilly joined, why haven't you tried procreation? Isn't that the humans' goal in life? To create more?" This is how it works in the jungle anyway. Married animals usually get to work breeding immediately, since the whole purpose of existence is usually to create more of us. It confuses me that this isn't human priority.

"Sure," the Peeta says, somewhat hesitantly. He doesn't meet my eyes-which is also perplexing-and instead busies himself tidying things that aren't even messy. "But Delly and I want to take it slow. At a sloth's pace, if you will."

I frown. "How long have you been joined?" I ask.

The Peeta makes an odd sound. A sound I can only discern as fluster and confusion. "Four years," he says.

"Wow. Some sloths are moving faster than you, I hate to say." At least sloths have their priorities in order. It seems that Delly and Peeta's marriage is a complete mess. There doesn't seem to be order or precedence. Maybe that's what all-what did he call it?-'arranged' marriages are like.

"I know," the Peeta replies, sounding like he is repeating something for the hundredth time.

I scratch the back of my neck and watch the Peeta with a deepening frown. He continues wasting his time by tiding things up that don't need it. I decide to leave him to his devices by ceasing communication. I wonder what it was that I said that irritated him so much. Was it offensive or is he just in a bad mood? I wonder if the Delly has done something to upset him. Loathing for her wells up inside me and I force myself to swallow it down again.

As I watch the Peeta move around, doing his pointless tasks, my mind wanders to how the monkeys in my clan procreated themselves. It was a swift ordeal, usually not even taking a quarter of an hour to complete. There's no fluff or time wasting. It's just a get-the-job-done event. But for some reason desires stir inside me that don't match the monkeys' ways of doing things. It doesn't seem ethical. Not if I were to, for example, take an animal like the Peeta as my mate. There's small issues that prevent the action from being quick. Like the fact that the impractical covers of 'London' would have to be removed; the fact that I'm still curious about the Peeta's anatomy holding me back a little; and this odd sensation I keep having to discover what his skin tastes like. Of course, I wouldn't eat him, that would be silly.

Or would it?

"We, ah, have dinner at six," the Peeta explains. He pauses and stares at the door with a fixated frown. "You wouldn't know when six o'clock is, would you?" Six o'clock. What a weird concept . . . "I'll get Delly to come and collect you when"-The look on my face must cause him to pause-"Or would you rather I came?"

I nod. I don't want to see the Delly more than I have to.

The Peeta returns my nod. "Okay. I'll come and collect you at six. I'm sure you would like to get some sleep, since you're very probably jet lagged from the journey."

What the heck is jet lag?

Again, the Peeta is able to read me and he breaks his gaze from the door and smiles at me. "You're very probably tired," he elaborates.

Damn right I am.

I sleep for hours. I am used to sleeping in the open air, nestled in the crook of a tree branch with the pack below me. The room in which the Peeta has placed me isn't like the trees at all. There is no open air and no rough tree bark rubbing against my skin. But I do not feel like I miss it. The bed is impossibly soft and the warmth of the room is a pleasant change.

It feels like only minutes before the Peeta comes calling again for dinner. I am curious to see how the process of dinner works for the humans. Something tells me that they don't eat with their bare hands or go out to hunt prior to the dinner gathering. When I climb off the bed, my dress is slightly wrinkled but the Peeta simply smiles.

His covers have changed. He is no longer only wearing the white shirt and waistcoat. Well, as far as I can tell, anyway. The sharp looking night black jacket he is wearing is closed up so I am unable to judge. Something tells me, however, that if even he is also clothed in a white shirt and waistcoat underneath, it would be a different set from the earlier ones I have seen.

"Feel better?" he asks.

I can't deny that I feel refreshed. I haven't sleep so well in what feels like years. Of course, the trees provided sufficient rest but I would be fooling myself if I said that I slept peacefully and I wasn't restless or fitful. I nod.

The Peeta holds his elbow out. I stare at it for a moment. I recall seeing males and females who roam the streets of London walking together in a similar way. I hesitantly place my hand on his arm and when he doesn't protest or step away, I slip it further in to loop around his arm. "You look very nice," he said.

"I look like a fish trying to swim on land." The Peeta chuckles and leads me out of the room. His shelter is amazing. I can't help my head rotating in awe as I look around the hallways he walks me through. They are decorated with different fabrics and occasionally have depictions of images in huge wooden structures. I glance at the Peeta out of the corner of my eye. His profile is shockingly defined. I can't understand how one animal could be so striking. There is a stir in my chest and I realize, without a doubt, that my monkey urges embedded in my brain have somehow become intertwined with the urges of another kind. What, however, I just don't know.

The Peeta leads me to a room even bigger than the one he has given me. It is almost cavernous. A long structure-which I soon learn is called a table-sits in the middle, a glass container holding flowers placed strategically in the middle. My fingers dig into the Peeta's bicep at the irritating sight of the Delly sitting at the top of the table, her back straight as an arrow and her expression less than amused. The mere sight of her ruins my mood completely. And I was quite enjoying the stroll with the Peeta.

"Why, jungle lady, you look like you're just out of bed," the Delly says tightly.

"She is, Delly," the Peeta answers. His calm approach fascinates me. The way she speaks, that one simple sentence, has already riled me enough to rip her head off her shoulders. He moves to one side of the table, beside the Delly, and pulls a seat out. I think he's seating himself and am confused when his gaze returns to me. "Please, sit," he says.

Who? Me?

Oh.

I discreetly slip into the seat he has pulled out and grip the arms in surprise when the Peeta pushes the seat in. My back wishes to hunch in the way it has become accustomed but I try my hand at mimicking the Delly. I force myself upright, trying to figure out whether the way the Delly sits has something to do with why the Peeta chose her as a mate.

"You surely have a name," the Peeta says as he walks around the table to seat himself across from me. "I know you can't speak but there must be a means of finding out."

I shrug helplessly. I cannot think of a way in which I can tell the Peeta my name. I would love to, I just don't see how.

"I don't understand why you would care," the Delly says. "I mean, she's an animal. Do the monkeys in the jungle have names? Do the insects that roam the soil have names?"

"We're all animals, Delly," the Peeta answers.

His response makes me smile. I click my tongue to make the sound of Kala's name. Of course we have names, could the Delly be so naïve? When my eyes connect with the Peeta's, I find tenderness in his gaze. Does he recognize that I am saying Kala's name in the form of the monkey's language?

"Sadly, there's no way," the Delly sighs. "No way to find out. She can't speak; she clearly can't write. We must simply regard her as jungle lady or tree nymph." I cock my head and narrow my eyes at her spitefully. What, exactly, does she have against me? What have I done to her? Maybe she senses the competition in the air. Maybe she knows that I wish to mate with her civil partner. Huh. Should make things interesting.

"I'm sure we'll think of a way," the Peeta dismisses. "I'm right in believing that you do have a name, aren't I?"

I eagerly nod. "My name's Katniss," I want to say. But I can't. I'm sure the Peeta can decipher than I am trying to say my name but it doesn't take a genius to know that it is impossible to be able to read my name simply from my eyes.

"Well, then, we'll definitely have to figure out a way to find out," the Peeta smiles. His smile is contagious and it doesn't take long before I'm smiling back.

The Delly still looks no happier. Her mouth is set in a thin line, almost invisible if it weren't for the red paint on her lips. "Yes," she says. "I'm sure we will."

When food is placed in front of me, I am fascinated. It is placed on a flat holder of some sort. There are several metal objects on either side and I am confused as to what I am to do with them. I'm not to eat with my hands, I know this much. It's too grizzly, I can tell. Besides, the Peeta nor the Delly eat with their hands. I glance at the Peeta, unsure. He notices my confusion and smiles that attractive smile again.

"Here." He reaches across the table and takes my hand. I don't flinch and I am glad for this. I don't want to attack the Peeta. So I do not want my senses to be switched so high when I am around him. I will keep them as muffled as I can with the Peeta, and I shall keep them on with anyone else. Especially the Delly. I don't care about harming anyone else. As long as I don't harm him.

The Peeta slips one of the metal objects into my hand and shows me how to shovel my food with it. How clever. "Thank you," I try to communicate with my eyes.

"If you need help with anything, don't hesitate to ask," says Peeta. The Delly does a strange rolling motion with her eyes. I don't understand its meaning but knowing the Delly creature, it probably isn't nice. "I'll be more than pleased to help you."

The dinner would have been lovely, if the Delly hadn't been there. She didn't seem capable of keeping her mouth shut, and yammered on for what felt like hours once I had gotten the hang of eating properly. She talked about things that didn't make sense to me but that the Peeta listened to with great interest. He offered advice when necessary but for the most part kept quiet and nodded. I don't understand how the Delly could jabber so much, how she can listen to her own voice so constantly, when she has the opportunity to listen to the Peeta's much more amiable and enchanting on the ears voice. Is she really so oblivious to the quality of mate she has?

I always had a loathing for monkeys who behaved in such a way. The mostly male apes who acted like they didn't appreciate the work their females did for them. I promised myself that I would never let this happen to myself. That if I ever mated with a male, I would never allow myself to be underappreciated or poorly treated. I would never submit to a male. In jungle terms, I would live a life of solitude. Alone.

It's almost odd that gender roles seemed to be switched in this world. Or, at the very least, under the roof of this shelter.

The Peeta returns me to my room after dinner. He tells me that he will show me around London tomorrow, to see the sights and to 'get my bearings'. I am greatly excited for this. I wish to explore every inch of the hard, grey jungle of London. Sleep is my main priority still however as the journey from my jungle to the Peeta's has certainly taken its toll, despite the fact I have already rested before dinner.

On my bed lies a garment similar to the one the Peeta gave me, only much thinner and of a cloud white colour. "They're your bed garments, courtesy of Madge," the Peeta explains. "You wear them to bed." Ah. I see. How odd. Different covers for different activities. No wonder the Peeta put different covers on for dinner. It must be custom.

I reach behind myself and start undoing the circles behind my dress. There's a shift of weight on the floorboards of the room, alerting me to the Peeta's departure. I spin on my heel and look at him in alarm. I frown. "Why are you leaving so soon?" I try to say.

"This is more of a thing that a lady does alone," the Peeta explains.

I tug on my dress. "The switching of covers?"

"Yes."

I let the last circle fall through its hole and let the dress fall from my arms. I don't understand why the switching of covers should be a lady's private affair. I have walked into the Peeta's tent and seen him without his top cover, why should the situation be any different for me? Maybe he is being kind. I don't see why he should think that he should be though. My body has never been a shameful matter in my eyes. I have grown to become quite proud of the body I have worked for over the years.

This doesn't stop the Peeta from turning around. I want to tell him to turn back around and face me but I know he won't. He won't look until the bed garments are covering me. I step out of the dress and untie the ridiculous 'drawers', as Madge called them, before squirming into the light bed garment.

I tap the Peeta's shoulder. "Decent?" he enquires.

I tap him again.

He turns around and looks almost relieved to see me clothed. Why? Does my body repulse him in some way? He refuses to meet my eye and busies himself by collecting my dress off the floor and attaching it to some sort of contraption which allows it to hang inside the structure known as the wardrobe. "Breakfast is usually around 9:30 but if you wish to sleep on, I can collect you later."

I have no concept of what this means so I assume that I will see what he means tomorrow.

When the floor is clear of any sign of my discarded covers, the Peeta places a hand on my shoulder and smiles that damn smile again. "Goodnight," he says.

"Goodnight," I reply.

Sleep eludes me. I thought I was tired but it seems to have been a ruse. My eyes skitter in an unsettled manner around the room, unable to concentrate on one thing before they're moving on to another. I toss and turn in the huge bed. It had been easy to fall asleep before but now it feels like an impossible task. I wonder what the Peeta is doing. I know for sure he is with the Delly. I still want to know how she managed to get her claws into such an intriguing being when she is so plainly boring herself.

I wonder if the Peeta looks at her without covers on.

I slip out of bed and pad across the floor in my bare feet. When I peer outside, the hallway is clear, so I continue down until I find the Peeta's room. What if he has already found rest? I can't expect that just because I suffer sleeplessness that he will too. The only way I am able to locate his room in the first place is that I can hear muffled voices behind the door. At least he's not asleep. I won't be disturbing him in any way.

As I draw nearer to his room, I realise that the sounds that I am hearing are not voices speaking rationally, but voices making strange sounds. I've heard such sounds in the jungle before. Just not at such close range. I gently place my hand on the handle of the door and push it open a slit, just so that I can peer inside.

I cannot see a lot through my slit. At first, all I can see is the Delly. And what I see of her is not pleasant.

Her body is formed exactly like mine, if you leave out the fact that her skin is pale as mother's milk. She has two mounds on her chest, just like I do. Her stomach is thin-unlike mine that is toned-but she has a patch of unkempt hair the same colour as that on her head, like I also have. How strange. How closely linked are these creatures to my own pack?

She approaches the bed and picks up a bed garment similar to mine. I watch as she pulls it on and tugs her hair out from beneath the collar. I have to sidestep and lean closer to the slit to watch her as she makes her way fully across the room, settling into the bed and cozening up to the Peeta, who sits against the headboard with his strange glass contraptions at the end of his nose as he marks something onto another piece of white. I wonder what he's marking. The Delly? Something he remembers from my jungle?

Me?

"How long must she stay here?" the Delly asks.

"As long as it takes," the Peeta replies.

"I'm not happy you went against what I wanted," the Delly pouts, pressing her chin against the Peeta's shoulder. She doesn't seem to appreciate that she's in the presence of an amazing marking being made. I can only dream of watching the process, while she probably throws it away on what I'm guessing is a daily basis.

"I'm only doing what's best for her," the Peeta answers. "We are many things Delly but the day we leave an innocent woman behind in a jungle full of wild animals is where I draw the line."

"She obviously grew up there," the Delly mutters. "If she'd been eaten, it'd have already happened."

"What do you have against her? Why are you so strongly opposed to her presence with us?" the Peeta asked. He stops what he was doing and meets the Delly's eyes. There's a moment's silence as the Delly refuses to answer the question. Then, as if I blink and this action changes the entire setting, something else is happening.

The Delly holds huge clumps of blond hair in hands, using this to hold her mate's head close to her own. Their mouths are touching, and moving, and making strange noises. I stand frozen, staring through my slit, as I try to decipher what's going on. I have never seen such a thing before. Is that even hygienic? To have the mouth of another against your own?

I am paralyzed, unsure about what to do. The Delly is bolder than I give her credit for, as she removes the white from the Peeta's hands and slides into his lap like one might mount a leopard. My curiosity is peaked and I wish to find out what happens next, the stir in my chest returning so prominent it's almost painful.

"Not when there's company," the Peeta finally says, placing a hand in the middle of the Delly's chest and smiling at her comfortingly.

"Not when there's company; not when you have the flu; I'm really beginning to think you don't want me anymore," the Delly pouts, playing with the gold band on the Peeta's finger.

"Now don't be silly," the Peeta scolds. He cups her cheek and places a gentle kiss on her lips. "There's no one else for me."

I back away from the door and walk back to my room as hastily as I dare, knowing that one misplaced foot could give me away. I spend the rest of the night lying in the now tainted bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating my plan of attack. The Delly has an advantage, but I'm going to have to figure out a way to steal that advantage.

The question is: how?


	8. Kat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss explores London with Peeta and attends a lesson with Madge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Please remember that Katniss is not speaking verbally, nor is Peeta able to decipher what she is saying word for word through her gaze. What is written is what Katniss is trying to say, and Peeta translates what he can. The idea is that they have a connection, so Peeta gets a general idea, not a word for word analysis. 
> 
> Please leave some room for fictional convenience as we all know something like this wouldn't exactly be possible in reality but keep in mind that this is a story! Something happens soon to help Katniss communicate better, so please bear with it! 
> 
> Thanks! :D

Chapter Eight

London is amazing. It is not amazing in the same regards as the jungle, but it is amazing all the same. Where the jungle is filled with lush green trees, London is lush with huge buildings and hard grey earth. It's beauty in a different way. A different form. The Peeta guides me around, without the Delly, and shows me the world in which he has grown. It feels like there's so much to see; so much to learn; so much to understand.

The most beautiful thing I have seen so far is the giant structure that looms like a giant over the city. The Peeta explains to me that its name is Ben. Big Ben, however I don't know how its size has anything to do with its name. He tells me that it tells time. I wonder why such a thing matters. I had never needed to know the time. Human ways are so different.

I struggle to walk accordingly in the new dress that was left on my bed this morning. The 'skirt' keeps tucking under my feet and I trip constantly. The Peeta explained to me that I have to lift the skirt to prevent this but there's so many things I wish to handle and feel that I keep forgetting to do this. The texture of every building is different. Some are rough, others are kind of smooth. I want to feel everything. Witness everything this gorgeous place has to offer.

At the bottom of the Big Ben is a massive building. "That's Parliament," the Peeta tells me. "They make laws, debate topical issues and look at how our taxes are spent to help run the country. You know, things like health, the environment, transport, jobs, schools, crime etc."

I think I understand. They are the animals at the top of the food chain. The ones who decide how the other humans live their lives. I smile and nod to show my understanding. The Peeta explains a little bit more to me about this Parliament as we walk along the length of the 'Palace of Westminster'. I am only half listening to him because I am so fascinated by the craftsmanship of the gorgeous building.

"I suppose this is all so strange to you," the Peeta eventually says.

"It is wonderful," I respond. 

The Peeta looks surprised by my answer, what I was trying to say clear through my bright gaze. He scratches his head in contemplation. "I guess," he says. "It's nothing compared to the jungle."

"You are wrong. This is fantastic."

The Peeta laughs. "Well, if you say so," he chuckles.

I nod. I do say so and I'm glad that he recognizes this. I was expecting a bit more of a debate about it but it seems like the Peeta is more of a submissive creature than an argumentative one. Oh well. We briefly pause for respite, which is accompanied by some weirdly light food. It isn't like anything I would have snacked on in the jungle. The meat is so thin and I find myself eating way more than the Peeta. He doesn't mind that I eat most of it and actually encourages it.

A part of me wonders why none of the other women seem to be all that focused on eating. Surely they realise that food and sustenance is the key to becoming strong? Why leave the enjoyable things like eating the meat and being the alpha to the males? This has been the one rule of the jungle that has always fascinated me. And annoyed me.

"I feel like I must apologize for Delly's mannerisms last night," the Peeta says as we set off walking again. "The journey back from the jungle has affected her judgement. I'm confident that tonight she'll be better."

I turn away from staring at the people carriers dragged by animals. It makes me feel almost sick by how animals are put to work as if it's nothing. I look at the Peeta and say, "You and her exchanged words last night, yes?" or something along those lines.

The Peeta's face reddens. "You heard that?"

"Your tone suggests this is bad. Was I not supposed to hear?"

"Not in this sense," says the Peeta. "But you must be careful whose conversations you listen in on. I don't mind, and I doubt Delly would either, but some people might not be as understanding."

I see. Hmmm. "The Delly seemed upset. Is she alright now?"

The Peeta nodded. "As I said, the journey and jet lag and things. She hasn't been all that keen on guests, but I have a feeling you both will get on swimmingly once she has settled once again. I think the jungle has been the farthest any of us have ever travelled and, you know, it can be hard to adjust once we have returned."

"I would be delighted to return to such a fascinating world," I reply. My eyes drift back out to where the enslaved animals pull the people carriers. The jungle is beautiful, of course it is, but the differences that sit between there and here are huge. I can't decipher whether such a gap is a good thing or a bad thing at this present moment but for now I am more than pleasured to simply sit back and consume human custom.

My arm is looped through the Peeta's, the same way we had walked from my room to the eating hall the previous night. I see other humans walking in the same way, so I conclude that it must be the common way of travelling in pairs. I learn to differentiate between male and female by the clothes they were. Females wear covers like the garments the Peeta has given me to wear while the males wear much more comfortable looking covers.

"Madge would like to see you," the Peeta tells me. I turn my head back to him. The Madge? I wonder why she would . . . "You see, Madge is a teacher. One of the first woman teachers London has ever seen. She'd like to, erm, educate you a little on our ways."

I quirk an eyebrow. "You believe I am uneducated?"

"No! Of course not," the Peeta says. "Madge just wishes to see what you know and what you don't. We want to help you, but we can't do that until we know what you need help with."

"I see. And what sort of things will she be educating me on?"

The Peeta shrugs. His hair falls into his eyes with the sudden movement but he doesn't make a move to brush it away. "Now that I don't know," he chuckles. "I'm not the teacher, Madge is. I wish I knew as much as she did but sadly I don't. If I did I'd probably want to educate you myself." That sounds like it would be nice. However there is no use in being educated by someone who does not know what he is doing. Even I can understand this. "Knowledge can be the key to power, you see. Something tells me that if you knew a little bit more than what you already do, you would be capable of amazing things."

The Peeta's eyes seem to almost glitter in the afternoon sun. The blue matches that of the sky, even if it is difficult to see because of the huge fire lamps that line the streets of London. I smile at him and he doesn't hesitate before returning the gesture.

An animal crawls out from a dark alcove and I jump back in horror. It's like a tiger, only much smaller. The jet black fur is nothing like I have seen before and I look at the Peeta in amazement as he steps closer to the mini tiger. I grab his arm and drag him back before he gets himself hurt. The Peeta's blue eyes look at me in alarm. 

I shake my head at him. "No. It will eat you. We must find another way around."

"It's only a cat," he says.

My eyes widen. Cat. That sounds exactly like . . . My fingers tighten around his arm and I point at myself.

"What?" The Peeta frowns.

I point at the 'cat' and then at myself.

"You're . . . a cat?"

Argh! I shake my head and jab my finger into the Peeta's chest.

"Me?" he asks.

I nod and then point at myself.

"You're . . . Cat?"

I nod rapidly.

A smile breaks out across the Peeta's face. "Your name's Kat," he says.

It's not my full name but it's so beautifully close I feel the urge to cry out with joy. I grin and nod. Yes, that's me! I'm Kat! Oh thank heavens you understand! And it sounds so perfect in your beautiful human language! Kat, Kat, Kat! I want him to keep saying it. To never forget it.

My name is Katniss. But Kat is close enough.

~MKYP~

The Madge sits across from me at a table similar to that of what the Peeta, the Delly and I ate at in their shelter. "I'm glad to hear you were able to communicate your name to Peeta, Kat," she says. In front of her is an object like that that the Peeta makes markings on. Only this one has strange lines on it. "I'm sure Peeta has explained to you what I wish to do. In no way do I think you're stupid, nor do I believe you're uneducated. Someone who has to managed to survive in a jungle closed off from human contact must be incredibly clever. I just want to familiarise you with human custom."

At least she knows I'm not uneducated. She recognises that I am probably more intelligent than she is in many regards. I hope she realises also that if she steps out of line, I won't hesitate to take action, just like I wouldn't for the Delly or any of the other human who dares challenge me. Especially those of who try to put a divide between myself and the Peeta, who has become the only person I trust wholly.

The Madge pushes the object towards me and uses what looks like a stick of wood to mark something into it. The symbols are unfamiliar to me but I think I could easily commit them to memory. "Since you seem to trust Peeta more than anyone else, I'm going to centre our first class on him. So you are given a sense of security and realise I'm not going to hurt you, understand?"

I nod.

"These symbols," The Madge continues, "is how you would spell Peeta's name. It's how it looks to the eye." I lean forward. I still don't understand the symbols. But now that I know what they are, the meaning behind them, they are the most beautiful symbols I have ever seen. "People's names are spelled out with letters. That's what these symbols are called."

Letters. Okay . . .

"It's like our identity," the Madge explains. "Humans need identities so we can be picked out from others. If we all didn't have different names then we would all just form this boring mass of the same copy repeated over and over again. Other things like our appearance, status or job would contribute towards our identity. Take Peeta for example. His family's merchant status has being highly respectable ever since his great grandfather founded the Mellark Bakery. Peeta used to be a street artist, not a baker, but when his parents arranged the marriage between himself and Delly, he and Delly became joint owners of her family's land. A job was no longer needed. Owning land makes you high class."

Now that I understand. Different species claim different parts of the jungle. If you trespass without permission then you welcome the consequences that you might have to face because of your reckless actions. The tigers and lions own the most land in the jungle. Kala's clan had considerable land and were welcome onto most soils but we still had to move with caution.

I want to ask the Madge if the Peeta was okay with changing his status. From what I understand of how he leads his life, making markings is very important to him. Did he want to swap his life as a-what was it?-street artist to become a co-land owner with the Delly? I know of animals who would do anything to be higher up on the food chain but I would have never have thought of the Peeta as someone who would put status before happiness.

The Madge quirks an eyebrow at me. "You really are smarter than we give you credit for, aren't you?" she asks.

I cock my head. "Can you read my eyes too?"

"Something tells me not with the same clarity as Peeta," the Madge says. "But I see something."

"What did you see?"

"You seem confused. By Peeta's marriage."

"I am."

"You can't question such things. Sometimes we must leave them be. I believe that there will be a day where people like us can stand up and say no but sadly today is not that day," says the Madge. "All we must do is stand up tall and smile."

"I am not one for staying quiet about things I am unhappy about," I tell her.

The Madge sighs and shakes her head. "But you must."

I narrow my eyes. What sort of woman closes her mouth against a question? Stays quiet when there are injustices to be fought? Sits down when she should stand up? "Tell me one thing," I plead with her.

"And what is that?" asks the Madge, her fingers restlessly playing with the stick of wood in which she wrote the Peeta's name with.

"Has he found happiness?" That's what every creature wants? We want to find happiness and peace in our lives. It's like a mission, or a job or some sort. I stare at the Madge, concerned by how long it is taking her to answer.

"We have all found a state of content," she eventually answers. She pulls something out from underneath the object with the Peeta's name on it. "Moving on now, this is the earth." She passes me the paper and I stare at the blue sphere marked on it. It's blue all over with bits of green. I know who marked this. It was obviously the Peeta.

Earth.

What is earth?

"This is where we all live," the Madge explains. "It is 6,371 km. Weighs 5.972E24 kg with a surface area of 510,072,000 km². Your jungle would be located about . . . here." She points at one of the green splodges. So small. I am . . . so small. The jungle, compared to its surroundings, is also so small. In this 'earth' I am nothing but an ant. An insect like the dung beetles that frequent the dirt.

So, so small.

In this world, I am a speck clinging to the skin of the earth.

I am nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N:   
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	9. Happiness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delly throws a homecoming ball, but is not at all pleased with how things go. Katniss learns a devastating secret about Peeta in the process and makes a final decision.

Chapter Nine

The Madge has given me etiquette lessons over the past few weeks. It amazes me the amount of rules there are just on how to conduct yourself. Sit up straight; elbows off the table; shake hands; curtsey; feet together; smile. That one is the hardest. Smile. Why should I smile unless something makes me particularly happy? That being said, I have found myself enjoying the company of the Madge. She understands me and she isn't as irritating as I thought she would be. It seems that my first direct impression of females of the human species (i.e the Delly) was not the most favorable.

The Delly is having what the Madge described as 'a homecoming ball'. Apparently, human species sometimes celebrate their returning from other places. The Delly wishes to have this 'ball' to celebrate her and the Peeta's return from my jungle. I'm not entirely sure why but the Madge tells me it would be a perfect opportunity to try some of the etiquette she has taught me. It should be interesting.

If there is one thing I dislike about the human customs, is the treatment of the females. It has become clear to me that they are considered lower than the males. They are treated almost like accessories on the male's arm, especially when travelling in pairs. The Madge told me that this is because in 'God's' eyes, the males are superior because he created a human called Adam before Eve. However, when she told me this, she lowered her voice and mentioned that before Eve there was a female called Lilith but Lilith refused to submit to Adam and was banished by this 'God'. I prefer the Madge's version, even if she told me not to repeat it to anyone else.

When not being taught etiquette by the Madge, the Peeta takes me on walks around London. Well, more like he suggests and I take the lead, making it clear where I want to go and explore. I doubt he minds, since he already knows the place like the back of his hand. Back at their shelter-when the Delly isn't around-the Peeta teaches me this form of communication called 'sign language'. He explained to me that his father had been in an accident before he was born and was deaf as a consequence. The only way the Peeta or his other family members could communicate with him was by learning sign language. I have picked it up pretty quick and hope to someday be able to spell out the rest of my name for him. Until then, I am happy to be called Kat. Half a name is better than no name at all.

The 'homecoming ball' is held in a large hall along one of the many corridors in the Peeta and the Delly's huge shelter. So many people come. So many humans. All of varying colors of hair; dress colour; height and weight. The females all wear garments that are so similar to mine but so different at the same time. They have skirts but the materials are different. The design; the coloring. No two female's outfits match.

A couple of days previous, the Peeta asked me what my favourite colour was. He used these things called 'charcoals' to show me what the different types of colour where. The sky; the dirt; the sun; the grass; and the blood. That's what I call them, as the titles the Peeta told me slip my mind so easily. My favourite, of course, was the grass. It reminds me of home. I wasn't sure why he had asked me this at first but on the evening of the 'ball', I was astonished at the sight of a gorgeous grass colour dress lying on my bed. I wonder even now if it belonged to the Delly, like the others I have worn as of so far, or if it's brand new. Surely it wouldn't be. The Peeta wouldn't waste his tokens on me. Right?

I do not talk to anyone at the 'ball'. I do not have a reason to. Besides, the Peeta is the only human I have met so far who knows the language of the signs and no one else can read my eyes. I see the Peeta occasionally trying to slip away to join me, meeting my eyes for a fleeting second, before being dragged back by the Delly, who holds so much strength in such a petite figure. I understand it is probably custom for partners to be seen together at events such as this and I smirk at the thought of breaking that partnership so the Peeta will become mine. I am still convinced that I will win against the Delly. She may be strong for such a small person but I will always be stronger.

I have been thinking about this a lot recently. I know that the animal means of gaining a partner will not work here in London. If I had thought that it did, I would have already jumped on the Delly and ripped her throat out with my bare hands. The simple fact that the Peeta does not have fighting hands makes me believe that if I killed the female he is betrothed to, he would not wish to become my partner. It doesn't work the way it does in the jungle. I will have to think of different means.

I am confident that the Peeta will provide me with strong offspring. I do not know much about how to be able to tell this. Usually a male would judge a female's fertility by how wide her hips are. Since I am the dominant species, however, I am not completely versed on how to be able to know from a female's perspective. I have-on many occasions-craned my head around when the Peeta isn't looking to try and suss it out by the looks of his rump alone. It's difficult, I must say, but I am sure I'm correct. I usually am. Besides, it's a nice rump. A really, really nice rump.

The Peeta eventually manages to prise himself off of the Delly's arm and comes see me. He's dressed handsomely in a white shirt with a black waistcoat; jacket and slacks. In my opinion, he looks better than anyone else in the room. "How are you doing?" he asks me.

"Alright. It's kinda crowded in here," I sign.

"Yeah, Delly knows half of London," the Peeta chuckles, looking around at the people crowding his home. "She must invite them all whenever she hosts a ball so that she doesn't earn a bad name from any of them."

"Does the opinions of others really matter so much to her?" I ask.

"You'd be surprised how many people care about the opinions of others," says the Peeta. "It seems that all anyone seems to worry about is status."

I roll my eyes. "Tell me about it. There really isn't that much difference between the jungle and London. In some aspects anyway."

The Peeta nods his agreement. "Everywhere is a jungle, in some way or another. We even have lions who hunt their prey."

"You mean the Delly?" I ask. This makes the Peeta laugh but I am disappointed when he doesn't answer me. He must have thought I was joking.

The Peeta introduces me to a tall male with dark hair, who is apparently a close friend of his. "Kat, this is Gale," he tells me.

My eyes brighten and I can't help smiling. I turn to Peeta and sign, "I knew a monkey named Gale!" the Peeta laughs and tells this to the Gale. It is no secret where I came from. The Peeta asked me if I wanted to keep it private that I was from the jungle but I told him no. Why should I want that? I am not disgraced about my heritage. There is no reason to wish to hide it from anyone.

The Peeta and the Gale talk to each other and the Peeta relays anything I say to the Gale. I don't say much, however, because I am distracted. I can't help wondering why-if the Gale outweighs the Peeta in height; muscle mass; and weight-why I am not reconsidering my decision to partner and mate with the Peeta. In the jungle you choose the best of the best. Surely, this would make me want to go for the male who is larger and stronger?

I look at the Gale's hands. They are rough and have scars. The Peeta's are smooth with some chafes here and there. Fighter's hands versus lover's hands. I prefer the lover's. If I try to dominant the Gale to show I am the stronger side of the partnership, I can easily visualize him throwing me off of him and having his way with me the way the males in the jungle do. The Peeta will not. I know this for certain. He is a lover, not a fighter, and he is the one I feel I will always want. Which makes me all the more determined to win him over.

After the ball, when everyone has cleared out, I find myself wandering the halls in my nightdress. My mind is alive with questions. When will I go back to the jungle? Do I want to go back to the jungle? How will I break the partner of the Peeta and the Delly? How will I convince the Peeta to mate with me? I know how the animals mate. The male bends the female over. I can't do that. I don't have the assets to do that. Is this a test? Is that why everything is so complicated? Am I being tested?

I reach the end of one of the hallways and that's when I hear the yelling. It is muffled but clear. I know exactly where it is coming from as there are only two more people in this shelter besides myself. What could they be yelling so angrily at each other about? Curiosity getting the better of me, I follow the voices to the door of their bedroom and press my ear against it. I know the Madge told me to beware what I listen in on but I can't help it. I must know what has gotten them to shout at each other so vehemently.

"You left me standing there looking like an idiot!" the Delly screams.

"Delly, Kat was standing on her own. She didn't look comfortable. I just wanted to see if she was alright," the Peeta replies. His voice is raised but he sounds much more measured. More calm and in control.

"Now everyone is going to think you don't want to be around me!" the Delly rants.

"I doubt they're going to make that conclusion," the Peeta responds. "I left you for, what? Twenty minutes. They're going to think that you can't handle me not being around you rather than think that I don't want to be around you."

"I should get a leash for you and be done with it," the Delly mutters.

"So, what? People can start rumours that you're now parading your husband around as a pet instead of a person?" the Peeta challenges. "Who are these 'people' anyway? I hardly recognize anyone you invite to these balls anymore."

"That's because they're my balls!" the Delly fires back.

"And I'm sure it'd be such a sin to invite a few people that I know," the Peeta says. "At least my friends wouldn't spread rumours the way you always worry yours will."

The Delly scoffs. "I let you invite Gale."

"Only because you used to fancy him in school," the Peeta says. I notice that the Delly doesn't even try to deny this. She just scoffs again. "All I'm asking is that you let me invite somebody that I know other that those you 'approve' of. Maybe even just my brothers. I'm sure they'd be more than happy to come down from Scotland to visit."

"Peeta, you know that you owe me," the Delly says, her voice low and threatening. "You owe me for the things you can't give me. I should be allowed to invite who I want and trust you to stand by my side for the entirety of it. You owe me at least that much!"

There's a pause. I wait with baited breath. Why does he owe her? What can't he give her?

"If you loved me, you wouldn't hold such things against me," the Peeta says quietly.

The Delly laughs. It's almost hysteric. It stops as quickly as it started. "If you loved me, you would be able to give me children," she hisses. What did she just say? I suddenly wish to rewind time so I can hear that last statement again. What does she mean can't give her . . . Does he choose not to give her children? The thought makes my heat flip a little. I press my ear closer to listen for the Peeta's response.

"I would give you as many children as you wanted if I could," the Peeta replies.

"Sure," the Delly says sarcastically. "I'm sure you would. But you can't, can you? What exactly are you good for other than drawing pictures and baking the odd cupcake?"

"I understand that you're angry Delly but"-

"Angry? I'm livid!" the Delly yells. "You embarrassed me in front of everyone!" Her shoes click against the floor and suddenly the barrier I am leaning my weight against disappears. I fall to my knees with a yelp, my hands snapping out to stop myself from smacking the floor. The Delly walks over my like I'm not even there. "I'm going to Leevy's," she says once she's outside the room. "And I want her gone by the time I come back."

She marches away without another word. She slams the front door so hard I wonder if the frame will split due to the force. I glance up at the Peeta, still on the floor. He stands by the canopy support for their bed. Waistcoat unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, hair kind of ruffled. He rubs his hand over his face and thumps the support with his fist.

"Peeta?" I sign. It's a struggle to stand up and I trip multiple times when my feet catch on the skirt of my nightdress. "What did she mean you can't give her children?" I'm not sure why I'm signing because he's not looking at me. He's propped his arm against the support and has his forehead pressed against it. Eyes closed, jaw clenched in anger.

I stumble to my feet and approach with caution. I feel like I'm back in the jungle, immersed in trees, hidden from plain sight, tracking a lion with a sharp pointed stick because it's stalking Kala's children. I reach out and touch the Peeta's shoulder. He flinches but doesn't shrug me away. I don't know what to do because I can't speak to him. I dig my fingers into his shoulder and the action is enough to make him lift his head and look at me.

His eyes are ringed with red, like he wants to cry but can't. The blue has been dulled. Dulled by the Delly's harsh words. I lift my hand off of him to sign, "What did she mean you can't give her children?" I want to be delicate but it's difficult. I don't have a voice to soften and hope my eyes can convert the gentleness I wish to communicate.

"It's nothing," the Peeta replies.

"It doesn't seem like nothing. The Delly seems to care a lot about it. Do you not wish to reproduce with her?"

The Peeta shakes his head. "I would give her everything she wants if I could," he says, his voice almost pleading with me to understand.

"Why can't you? Don't you love her?"

The Peeta looks away from me, which makes me think that I'm maybe right. "It's our duty to our families to marry and have kids. Keep our name strong. Delly doesn't love me, she hasn't for a long time. My feelings towards her are . . . complicated."

"Why doesn't she love you?"

"Delly has dreamed of being a mother. Her own mother bought her expensive baby dolls and prams when we were children. She always wanted to have a real child to care for. Somehow people thought I would be the best person to provide her with this. They didn't know about . . ." He trails off, his blond eyebrows bending downwards to a frown. "Why am I telling you this?"

I cock my head and touch his face, turning his head back towards me. "Because I'm your friend," I tell him. "What didn't they know about?"

His eyes sparkle like a lagoon on a full moon. The apple in his throat bobs as he swallows his confusion and answers me. "Kat, I can't have children."

"Why not? Don't you know how?"

"It's not that"-

"I can help you. I have seen more animals mate in the jungle than clouds in the sky."

"Kat," the Peeta says firmly, "I'm infertile."

I blink in confusion. In-what? I have never heard of such a thing. I've heard of being fertile, everyone is fertile, but infertile? What did that mean? Did it mean that the Peeta could not produce offspring? Was that even possible? "Then why are you engaged to a female who desires babies?"

"We didn't know until after the arrangement. Delly . . . she didn't want the shame of admitting that we couldn't have children and she promised me she'd keep it quiet. I owe her so much for that."

The idea makes me mad. Owe Delly? For keeping a secret that wasn't even hers? "Leave her," I say. "She doesn't deserve you. Come with me! We'll . . . we'll figure something out." Why do I still want the Peeta? If he can't impregnate the Delly then he certainly won't be able to impregnate me! "You shouldn't marry her. You shouldn't settle for unhappiness."

The Peeta laughs hollowly. "If only it were that easy."

"It is!"

"Kat, I wish it was, but it's not. Life here . . . it isn't like the jungle. I have a duty to my family."

"Never mind your family! What about you?"

The Peeta smiles, as if what I'm trying to tell him is amusing. "It's lovely of you to show concern but I'm fine, really. Trust me, I can handle Delly. I have been handling her ever since we were children."

I roll my eyes. "Seems more like she's been smacking you around ever since you were children."

The smile on the Peeta's face fades. He narrows his eyes at me and steps away. "You don't understand anything about that. Delly can't control herself sometimes, she doesn't do it intentionally." Why does he always defend her? I want to scream in frustration! "Besides, she doesn't give anything I don't deserve. Sometimes I push too far."

I laugh, despite myself. "You don't push hard enough, trust me."

"Kat, you don't understand. You haven't been here since the beginning. I am not a good person. Anyone who can't provide their partner with children can't be a good person!"

"You obviously can't control it!"

The Peeta shakes his head. "I'm sure I could have done something."

"Argh, you're so frustrating!" On impulse and grab the front of his shirt and drag him towards the. Human instincts have poisoned me and before I can fully process what I'm doing I have slammed my mouth against his own. I don't know how to do this properly but I let myself trust my instincts-as they have never been wrong before. I expect an immediate reaction: the pushing of me away and the banishing of me from his home.

That doesn't happen.

Instead, when I reach up and touch his face with his hand, the Peeta touches my hip and pulls me closer. I am on my tiptoes but I push hard against him, so his back is against the support and my body can get closer to his. My free hand lies on his chest, my leg sliding up against his as the intensity of the contact grows. The carnal urge to be naked flushes through me; to be touched and to be free again. Without the restriction of these clothes. Not alone though. With him. Both of us, free together.

The Peeta breaks away from me with a gasp of surprise. He bangs his head off the support and grabs me by the shoulders, pushing me back so I'm at arm's length from him. I didn't want to stop and I am dissatisfied. I push against his hands, trying to return to his warm embrace. "We shouldn't have done that," he says breathlessly.

"But we did," I smirk.

"She's my wife!"

"She's a rat!"

I snap his hold of me with my arms, taking him by surprise. I lurch forward and grab his shoulders, the way he grabbed mine, pinning his body against the support. I speak with my eyes. "What are you afraid of? I know you want this, you wouldn't have returned the contact if you didn't. Are you afraid of me? Of the fact that I can give you what she can't?"

His eyes search mine frantically, taking in every word I say with an ease no other human possesses. "Kat, please," he said desperately, "I don't want to hurt anyone."

"You admitted yourself that you aren't in love! Let the Delly find someone she loves and let yourself be happy. You would be beyond happiness with me, I can promise that. I will not submit to primitive gender roles and I will look after you."

"Kat"-

I connect our mouths again. His lips are soft, like the petals of a tulip. He is more closed off than the first time. His mind is confusing him with logic. I push harder by tasting skin. Pressing my mouth against the side of his mouth; his cheek; his temple; his ear. Curious, I take the softer skin between my teeth and nibble, making the Peeta inhale and push me back again.

"Kat, you can't be doing this. It's not right."

"What if I want to be wrong?"

"No one wants to be wrong."

"You're not happy!"

"Why do you care so much?!"

"Because you're the first human I ever met!" I exclaim. "And no human deserves to be unhappy. Nothing deserves to be unhappy . . . I can make you happy. Why don't you believe me?"

The Peeta holds my hands and squeezes them. "I do believe you, Kat. I just . . . Delly is my wife. We can't break it off, not now. It would bring shame to our families."

I narrow my eyes. "Aren't you attracted to me?"

The Peeta swallows hard. He stammers an answer. "I . . . I wouldn't say you're not . . . I mean you're very . . . It's not like I didn't notice it's just . . . you are . . . I mean, I can't say . . . you're not . . . You are very beautiful, t-that's what I mean."

I grin and try to kiss him again. He gently pushes me back. "This can't happen."

"I'm attracted to you," I sign. "I think you're a very appealing male. I've yet to meet another human I wish to mate with."

"Mate?!" The Peeta flushes bright pink at the idea. "Kat, I just said I can't"-

"Never mind offspring. I want companionship."

The Peeta's eyes soften. "Kat," he says delicately, "I don't know if I'm your man."

My hands slide up his chest and I smile warmly, "I think you are."

"Delly"-

"Isn't here."

"I can't"-

"You can."

"Kat"-

"Be quiet."

"I can't just"-

"Ssssh. Happiness."

I kiss him again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is the point where the story went onto hiatus for so long but I can now most definitely confirm that there will be more! I have gotten back into the groove of this story and have been updating as frequently as I can on fanfiction.net and wattpad. So expect more next week! I'll be seeing this out to the end! And there are definitely some interesting plot points to come! ;)
> 
> If there are any changes to my schedule I'll be sure to post it to my twitter feed, so if you wish to stay in the loop I'd recommend following me there. Let me know you're a reader and I'll follow back :D
> 
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/BBerrychills94
> 
> My other social media accounts can be found on my profile ^_^


	10. The Chase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peeta realises what he's done, and Katniss won't give up on him.

Chapter Ten

There is a blissful moment, where I believe that Peeta will allow this to happen. Where everything seems to fall silent and my blood heats up inside my veins and the only thing I can think about is how content I feel. How happy and at home kissing this human feels. Like, yes, this one fits, our mouths were designed to be joined this way. At last.

The allusion is shattered.

Peeta pushes me away again. "Kat, think about what you're doing." I roll my eyes and try to unbutton the rest of his shirt. Silly man doesn't know what's good for him. Peeta is nervous and fumbly, grabbing my wrists and holding them in both his hands. I quirk an eyebrow at him and glance at my hands, asking to be able to speak. Peeta reluctantly lets me go.

"What's the problem?" I question. "I'm nearly finished anyway." I nod at his torso, which is nearly completely open to my eyes. There's literally only one button at the bottom, so his shirt is basically hanging off his body.

"Kat, there's this thing," Peeta bats my hands away from him when I try to get rid of that dastardly final button. "It's called adultery. I don't expect you to know what it is but it's very bad. It's when one person is already married and then . . ." He glances at me with a fixed frown, trying to find the right word to say to me to explain it. ". . . mates with someone else."

"You are not married, you are shackled," I point out. "Want to hear the rules of the jungle?"

"Things are different in the jungle," Peeta quickly answers. "There's . . . rules here. Things we have to abide by to get through life"-

I roll my eyes and rip the last button open really fast so he doesn't have a chance to stop me. I touch his chest with my palm. His skin is warm and even though I am well aware that there are other males in London that are probably taller, stronger, more muscular, nothing makes me more excited than the Peeta. Maybe it's something to do with the fact that he is-and always will be-the first human I met. And in my eyes, he will always be the most perfect male I will ever see.

"Kat." I raise my eyebrows. He's trying to be authorative. "Stop it."

"I'm not doing anything wrong," I say. "We are born into this world naked and we shall leave it the exact same way." I look at my hand, which is still pressed against his chest. "Are you . . . bashful?"

"What?" Peeta scoffs. "No!"

A smile breaks out across my face. "You are bashful," I say. "There is nothing wrong with not wearing these . . . these . . . covers!" I first his top cover in my hand. "I survived just fine with only the tiniest pieces of material."

"Sometimes it's not about survival." I frown in confusion at Peeta's words. What does he mean? Everything is about survival. Peeta tries to take the cover back but I clench it tight in my fist so he can't. Peeta sighs, obviously trying to be patient with me. "Kat, if you don't calm down then you're going to do something really bad. I'm not going to betray Delly. As lovely as you are, Kat-really, you're very nice-I would never inflict pain on someone else."

"The Delly deserves it," I insist to him.

"You don't mean that," says Peeta.

"How do you know that? You know nothing about me and what I mean!" I throw his shirt away behind my head, infuriated with how much he cares about the annoying Delly. Would she be as quick to be as considerate about him? The Peeta detangles himself from me and frees himself from between my body and the bedpost. I scowl at him and grab his wrist as he tries to leave.

"Kat, I'm trying to be very patient here," Peeta says carefully.

"Why are you being so stubborn over a piece of clothing?!" I reply. "Do you fear nakedness or something? You really are being ridiculous!"

I try to kiss him again, but Peeta pushes me back. I'm surprised by the strength he puts into the action and I stare at him. His eyebrows are narrowed and he's breathing quite heavily. "Stop it," he says, his voice a tone lower than I'm used to. "I have let you into my home, Kat, and I still want to help you find your way, but if you don't respect my wishes then I can't have you around."

I frown at him. "You'd kick me out? Into the streets?"

Peeta looks away from me, chewing on his lip aggressively. It bothers me that the answer doesn't come easily to him. "If you don't respect me, or my wishes, or even my wife's wishes, how do you expect me to happily allow you under my roof?"

Grinding my teeth together at the very idea of having to respect Delly in any shape or form, I scowl. "I'm not disrespectful," I fire back at him. "You have no idea what my disrespect is like."

"In human custom, Kat, you've done far more that what you probably know," Peeta snaps. I blink at him. He exhales and runs his hand through his ruffled hair. "I know that you don't like Delly, Kat. I know you aren't fond of anyone around here and I understand. We all must seem so different to you, and you must be experiencing immense culture shock."

I don't bring up that the only person I do like is Peeta himself. He's beginning to bother me, so much so that I can actually feel the anger building up in my chest. What is in a kiss? Why turn me down, someone who could actually provide a smidgen of happiness into his life? Why choose a woman who is clearly making him miserable? Who is clearly dragging him down? Is a marriage really more important to humans?

"I am married to Delly." Peeta moves away from me. I don't follow him. There's something in his blue eyes that I can't decipher. It's like . . . he believes his words, but his also doesn't at the same time. "I love her. I owe her for what I can't give. I am a bad husband; she doesn't deserve me. This whole situation just proves it."

I squint. "How?" I sign.

"I have convinced you somehow that this would work," Peeta answers. "I didn't mean for my kindness to get misconstrued for . . . whatever you think could work between us. It was not my intention."

I let myself drift backward, until my back connects with one of the wooden posts of Peeta and Delly's bed. "Why did you return the kiss?" I fold my arms and wait for Peeta's answer.

He stares back at me, a fixated look on his face. As if he's trying to decipher what I signed. I know that he was able to understand full well what I said, and he's simply stalling for time. He doesn't know how to answer me. Maybe he doesn't even truly know his feelings. A street artist thrust into a higher life, struggling to come to terms with the life he is now forced to live.

"It was . . . a momentary lapse," he eventually says.

"I don't understand what that means," I tell him. Sometimes Peeta, or the other humans, would use these complicated words that I don't understand. The only time I'm ever able to decipher what is being said to me is if Peeta, or someone else who understands sound language, is around. "Please say it differently. Easier."

Peeta sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. "It was a mistake."

In a way, I predicted such a response. "Do you make such mistakes much?"

"No!"

"So, just for me?"

"I suppose."

I smirk. "So I'm a special case?"

Peeta continues to stare at me. Eyes wide, mouth slightly open, shock written all over his pale face. A moment later, his expression hardens. "What exactly do you want from me, Kat?"

What do I want? I want Peeta, that much is obvious. It clearly isn't going to be as easy as I first thought. I should have known. London is not like the jungle. I can't just take what I want without consequence. I bend down and pick the Peeta's shirt off the floor. Approaching him, I shove it against his chest, putting all of my strength into the action. I'm so forceful to makes him stumble backwards into the chest of drawers. He has no idea what I am truly capable of.

"I am from the jungle. Nothing but a wild animal, as your wife continues to insist upon. Maybe you are a bad husband; maybe Delly is a bad person. All I know is that I don't care. It doesn't affect how I see you. And if it doesn't affect how I see you, why should it affect how you see yourself?" I stare at him. He stares at me.

"I won't destroy my marriage for you, Kat," Peeta says firmly.

"I want you to come to me, Peeta creature," I say back. "When you finally realize the extent of your spouse's ungrateful behavior, how she treats you like the mat at the entrance to this shelter where people wipe their feet, I'll be waiting for you. And you'll get to see what happens in the jungle when an animal gets their hands on the mate they want."

"How many times must you be told that this isn't the jungle, Kat?" Peeta asks. He's sweating now. He knows I'm not kidding. He knows I'm not kidding and its exciting him to an extent.

This makes me smirk again. "How many times are you going to act like you care?"

Peeta huffs and quickly shrugs his shirt back on. I'm reminded of when we were up the tree and I shoved my hand down his pants to define his gender. He had flushed this bright pink color and even bit his lip. I wonder if he would do that now . . . I clench my fists. No. He's going to come to me. I'm not going to run after him anymore.

"I can tell you this right now," Peeta says, not even meeting my gaze anymore. "You'll be waiting a very long time."

I actually find myself snickering. I step closer to him and reach towards his face. Peeta tries to catch my wrist but I'm too fast, moving my hand out of the way and holding a finger up, almost like a mother chastising a child. Peeta's nostrils flare, clearly making the same connection himself. "You want to lead a life of unhappiness? Go ahead. When the strain finally hits you, you know where I am."

I step away. No more touching. No more insisting. I am the dominant animal. I will not chase what I want. He will come to me.

"Goodnight, Peeta creature."

I walk away, leaving Peeta behind in his room. Alone, with his thoughts. I hope he knows that this is not my surrender. In fact, it's quite the opposite. It is my refusal to chase him, but it is by no means my giving up. This has only just begun. I know he wants me the same way I want him. Human custom is getting into his head, driving a divide between his real need and want, and what 'society' dictates his want and need should be.

Everything would be so much easier if Peeta had been born of the jungle, just as I am. Even so, I actually find myself smiling as I walk down the halls back to my room.

The thrill is in the chase, never in the capture.


	11. A Savage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delly returns to the house and decides she wants to have a talk with Kat.

Chapter Eleven

There's someone in my room.

To have survived in the jungle for as long as I have, I had to learn to become one with every environment I reside in. It has grown to become second nature to me; learning how my surroundings interact with myself and others. So much so that I barely noticed my adjustment to the room Peeta had provided me with. It has become a subconscious thing, it seems, however I am glad for it. It further improves my senses, and makes me deadlier than the day before.

I'm also an extremely light sleeper. So when the floorboard by my bed creaks as weight is pressed down upon it, I snap awake. My body reacts like it would do in the jungle if my clan had been ambushed. Immediately switched on; every muscle tensed; ready for a fight. My eyes fly open and I throw my covers off my body, lunging to the end of the bed where my only vantage point lies: the board at the bottom. My feet dig into the thin wooden edge of the board. It holds my weight without a single groan, and I stand without a single falter. Clenching my fists, I stare at my intruder.

Delly stands by my bed, her hand outstretched, clearly having been about to attempt to rouse me. Her blue eyes bore into me, full of animosity. She straightens. "Why are you still here?" she demands.

I stare back at her.

"I told Peeta very clearly"-My lip curls at the tone of voice she uses and Delly pauses. She dusts off her skirts with a sigh. "I made my wishes clear."

I snicker. As if her wishes truly mean anything. Their marriage is a sham; how can she expect her wishes to be respected when she continues to live through dirty vows? The only thing that has kept me from actually doing as she says or as Peeta says is the clear . . . unstable nature of their entire partnership. I know that Peeta himself clearly can't see it, he believes that the partnership is salvageable. Or maybe he doesn't. Maybe it's more for the sake of their name's reputation.

Hadn't Delly said she was going somewhere? I'd hoped she was going to stay away for the rest of the night. Clearly this is not what humans do.

"You do know that you're a savage, right?" Delly asks me. It's rather amazing how she can speak so much venom but keep her voice measured and almost polite sounding. She knows I don't have a way of communicating with her. She doesn't understand sign language. "You belong in the wild, not in civilized society."

What she is saying is true in some ways. I do belong in the wild; it is where I was born and raised. Being part of the human world and 'civilized society' as she puts it has never felt completely comfortable to me. I do intend to go home, someday, but there are too many questions left unsolved. If I do not belong in civilized society, or even just the human world in general, then why do I look exactly like them? Why do we have the same anatomies; needs; and means of life? Despite eventually finding my place in the jungle, it was never lost on me that I was nothing like the other monkeys. So, if I am human, how did I end up in the jungle at all? Kala found me as a baby, but what was a human baby doing alone in a jungle so far from the rest of its people?

This experience has grown from my need to claim Peeta and take him from Delly. There are so many unanswered questions about my own existence that I want . . . no, need, to solve. In the beginning, I had thought that my life had been so straight forward. Ever since that band of humans showed up, they changed everything. Where I thought I had known everything about my world it turned out that what I knew was very, very little.

"You have proven yourself not to be stupid," Delly continues. "So I'm sure you are aware of your own status here."

Is she trying to take advantage of my state of silence? The fact that she can't read sign language or decipher my eyes and that I can't write gives her the opportunity to vent her mind without interruption? If she said such things to her husband it probably would result in the type of dispute I have now stumbled upon twice. To give credit where it is deserving, Delly is very vocal in her opinions, an admirable trait to have in a world where females seem to be shepherded around like sheep. That doesn't make some of her opinions right, though.

Does she honestly believe that something like status matters to me? Does she think that because it has such importance to her that it has the same gravity of importance to everyone else? If I were on the same level of status as the enslaved animals who pull the humans to their destinations I still would try to take what I believe is now mine and discover the truth about my birthright.

"Why are you still here? It's been so long," says Delly. "Surely you want to go home."

No, Delly, you want me to go home.

"You've turned from a nuisance in the jungle to a home wrecker." Delly purses her lips in agitation. "You've done nothing but meddle with my husband's good nature."

Meddled with Peeta's good nature? Right. So I used mind games to make him ask me to come to London? I must have also used these abilities I didn't know I have to convince the other women of the expedition to agree with him when he said they couldn't leave me. Also, to convince Madge to tutor me. Why is Delly even acting like she cares? From what I hear, whoever decided to arrange their marriage was meddling with Peeta's good nature in the first place because they knew he wouldn't say no.

As if she is even one to talk. I walked in on her literally blackmailing her 'good natured' husband because of his inability to give her offspring. "You owe me for the things you can't give me." Weren't they her words? What even goes on in that tiny sun colored head of hers that she accuses people of doing one thing; even condemns them for it; but doesn't realize that she has actually partook in a strain of it herself?

"I know you must idolize him . . . Saving you from that wretched place and all that. But that doesn't mean I will allow your welcome here to become overwrought. You will leave. Do I make myself clear?"

Idolize Peeta? The thought amuses me. The only creature I ever idolized was Kala. I wanted her wisdom; her kindness; and her strength. Idolization includes recognizing the superiority of the person or thing being idolized. Peeta is not my superior, he never was. I'm sure he knows this as well himself.

I continue to stare at her. I wonder if she were able to know what I say through my gaze like her husband would she be able to decipher every colorful word I wish to call her?

The only person whose order I will follow is Peeta's. Even that is to a particular degree. He expressed his anger at my making an advance, but returned my kiss when I gave it. Like the monkeys in the jungle, I'm sure it would be a blow to his male ego if he allowed a female to control him like that so he chose to resist afterward. It resulted in his telling me off and lecturing about disrespect of his hospitality. If I knew such things bothered him . . . I probably would have done it anyway.

"Am I speaking a foreign language?" Delly says, her face placid. I can see her patience with me running thin through her gaze. Peeta is not the only one who can read eyes. "I know you understand English, girl. Do I make myself clear?"

Who does she think that she's talking to, really? I walk along the board to the closest bedpost, which runs upwards close to the ceiling to hold the canopy above the bed. I love that these are called canopies. Like the canopies back home in the jungle. I see Delly flinch at my movement. I know she still expects me to pounce on her like a wild animal, despite my having proven on numerous occasions that I am capable of controlling myself.

"This is my house. You're standing on my bed; in my room; wearing my clothes; and it was my husband who saved you from the jungle," Delly says, a twinge of anxiety finally in her voice. Like she has to assert her ownership of these things so vehemently or else it won't be true.

Oh, she doesn't want me to wear her clothes? Fine then.

I pull my nightdress over my head and throw it at her, the alarmed look it causes to rise on her previously controlled features hilarious. I'm naked now, and I know it makes her uncomfortable. That's what separates strength from weakness. Worrying about your body being covered for the sake of decency is a weakness. The humans seem to have some sort of perception that a body is shameful, and seem to have evolved to believe it is an embarrassment to be exposed. Peeta is like me in some aspects. When I found him at his shelter in the jungle he didn't mind me seeing him without his shirt on, but suddenly tonight when it turned into a sexual matter it became something completely different. The humans think that I'm an anomaly? They're the erratic ones!

Delly doesn't know where to look now and it amuses me greatly. Her eyes are now pointed to the ground, as if my eyes are suddenly naked as well. I know she doesn't look me in the eye because that would mean part of my naked body would be in her peripheral vision. "That is not what I meant!" she says, as if I'll actually care.

She throws the nightdress back at me. Her aim is as off as her throw is feeble, the dress heading right past me. I react quickly, and catch the dress with my foot. Delly can't help but be the one who stares now as I balance on top of the bottom board with only one foot, not a single wobble to my frame as I hold my leg out, the dress draped over my foot like I'd placed it there myself.

"Cover yourself up and be decent," Delly demands.

The only person whose order I sometimes follow is Peeta's. Just to spite her, I kick the nightdress off my foot and over the side of the bed. I return my foot to the board and crouch, not so much as leaning against the bedpost for some support. It's only fair that she sees me this way. I have seen her in the same light, after all. Keening for mating time with her husband, who turned her down due to my presence in their home. I smirk.

"You are too uncaring for our world," Delly growls. "You'd roam around the streets like this if you were given the opportunity, wouldn't you?"

I probably would. I'm sure the reaction from the London dwellers would surely be both amusing and interesting. It is not London custom, however, which I respect for the sake of its people.

"All you achieve is further proving your savage nature," Delly presses. "Once a savage, always a savage."

How many more times is she going to use that word? I thought she was supposed to be literate? Surely she has other insults she could attempt to use rather than repeating the same one over and over again?

There is a creak at the top of the hallway. My head snaps to the door. Delly looks in the same direction as me, seemingly confused. "What?" she angrily demands. I roll my eyes. She can't even tell when her husband is coming our way.

Shaking my head, I dive off the bottom board. I body flip over the side, my hands briefly touching the mattress before using the leverage to vault myself forward, and land gracefully at the side of the bed where I threw the nightgown. Delly lets out a tiny scream, seeming to have initially believed that I was lunging for her. She stands dumbly as I swipe my nightdress off the ground and pull it over my head.

Just as the skirts have settled at my ankles, there's a soft rapping on the door. Instead of allowing me to answer, Delly stupidly snaps, "What?" at the knocker.

"Delly?" Peeta asks on the other side of the door, his voice so many different levels of shock and confusion.

"Peeta?" Delly asks back in alarm.

I rub my forehead with the heel of my hand. What was she expecting? There is no one else in this shelter! Peeta enters the room, his face looking like a visual representation of the confused tone he just had. "You said you were getting water, what are you doing in Kat's room?" he asks her.

It's clear that Delly must have returned while I slept and she and Peeta had sorted their differences. How inconvenient. It makes my task more difficult. Not impossible, just difficult. There is no questioning his interest in me, though, or else he'd never have kissed me back. This make up between spouses won't last. It won't be long before they're at one another's throats again.

"Didn't want me to find that you were harboring her?" Delly bites back.

Unprovoked by his wife's snippy remark, Peeta answers, "Well, if you expected me to kick her out over a spat, I knew you'd be disappointed." He meets my gaze from across the bed and I raise my eyebrows at him. He quickly averts his eyes, like looking at me is a dirty thing in itself. I know he's thinking about our kiss and the discussion we had in Delly's absence.

"I'll allow you to keep her," Delly declares, as if this decision had rested on her shoulders the entire time. Even her choice of wording reduces me to nothing but an animal. Her animosity amuses me.

"How generous of you," Peeta says, his tone flat.

"Why are you here?" I sign to him.

"It doesn't matter now," he signs back.

I wonder if the reason it now doesn't matter is the Delly's presence in my room. Why was he truly heading to my room? What had been his intention? Had he already succumbed to his true desires? The thought is entertaining, but I know deep down that he isn't that weak willed. It would take more than a kiss to make him give in to what he really wants.

"I'm tired. I'm going to retire to bed. Sorry for disturbing you, Kat." Delly says my name pointedly before sashaying out of the room. My gaze only briefly lingers after her, before it focuses solely on where it wants to be.

"I'm sorry if she woke you up," Peeta apologizes as soon as she's gone.

"She doesn't frighten me."

"I'm sure she doesn't," Peeta answers. He heads for the door. "Goodnight, Kat."

I don't answer him because his back is turned as he goes. Instead, I say my nightly farewell in my head. As soon as he's gone, I pull my nightdress over my head again. Stripping off in front of Delly reminded me of how much I enjoy being free of the restriction of body covers. I climb into bed, the duvet settling over my sensitive areas like an ice cool sheet. It reminds of me of sleeping in the jungle on the colder nights. When goosepimples would poison my skin and my nipples would harden to a point where I could cut wood with them if I desired.

Sleep is easier to find.


	12. The Transparent House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss tries to discover more information about her roots, and instead hears disturbing news about what Delly is telling people about her home life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **It is important to note that Kat speaks in sound language :)

Chapter Twelve

Even as I become more and more adjusted to the human world and their ways of life, there aren't many ways for me to uncover information about my roots. The closest thing to me that seems able enough to know such things is Madge, who seems to have an unending wealth of knowledge inside her yellow head. Any question I seem to have, she knows the answer to. She is the only person who could possibly help me find out more about my origin.

The next lesson I'm in with her after my encounter with Delly, I ask her about this. The question seems to surprise her, if the expression on her face is anything to go on. "Do I know where you come from?" she asks, repeating my question with a somewhat confused expression.

I nod. The room we have lessons in is an extension of Peeta's shelter. There are so many rooms in this massive building, I almost believe that they have a room for every type of function. It's on my to do list to check out the transparent house near the bottom of what Madge told me was called a garden. A garden seems to be a mini jungle that only the wealthy have behind their shelters. The reason I want to check out this see through house is because I'm almost positive that I can see plants inside; similar to the flora and the trees from my jungle.

"I'm sorry to say that all I know is that you came from the jungle," Madge tells me. She sits across from me, her hands sitting on top of one another in front of her on the table. She is a picture of regality and poise, something that I admire in a female. Instead of having her chin dragged to the ground, she holds it parallel to the floor in rebellious dismissal. "It is clear that you weren't born there, as you are most definitely human, however your origin is almost impossible to trace, I'm afraid to say."

I had an idea that I would get an answer like this. I know I am human, for that I am now positively sure about. I just wish that I knew of a way to trace my birth parents. To know where they came from; what brought them to the jungle; and what made them leave me behind for Kala to find. I don't have an answer to any of these questions, and in a way, I knew that Madge wouldn't either, but I felt that the question was worth asking.

"Do you have any theories of how I ended up as I did?" I ask instead.

Madge chews on the inside of her cheek in deep thought. "To have believed that you lived and belonged in the jungle as long as you did, you must have been abandoned at a young age. Unless your birth parents were worthless cretins, I don't think you would have been left behind on purpose. Maybe they were killed; or injured and left to die; by one of the wild animals that roam the trees. Then your adoptive mother discovered you; what was her name?"

I click my tongue to sound Kala's name. Madge nods.

"Kala must have found you after your parents were hurt, or-if they were worthless cretins-abandoned you. Monkeys are similar to us, especially in evolutionary aspects, she could have easily mistaken you for one of her own," Madge continues.

I shake my head vehemently. "My mother's child was mauled by a tiger not long before she found me. She was still in mourning when she found me, but when she did, she took pity on me. She wanted to help me . . . I think she knew I wasn't like her, or the rest of the clan. I don't think she cared."

Madge nods again, understanding glistening in her pale blue eyes. The eyes of a learner are always full of wonder and curiosity. She absorbs everything I tell her, and I don't have to question that she's listening to me. Learners and educators in the human world are fascinating to me, and sort of remind me of myself. There's never enough to discover; everything needs to be touched and handled and viewed and explored. It's a shame there aren't that many female educators in this world; and that Madge is one of the first. Hopefully, the women of the human world will continue to persist. A world ruled solely by men is boring and I had enough of that in the jungle.

"Do you think there's any hope of discovering where I come from?" I ask.

"I don't think anything is impossible," Madge says in response. "Within reason, of course. You should definitely talk to Primrose at some point; she knows what it's like to lose loved ones in the jungle, I'm sure she'd be able to help you greatly in your search."

Madge is right. I'm curious to hear more about the healer's story. I wonder if her loved ones where in the jungle at the same time as me; if they were killed on my very doorstep. I don't know if I could say with certainty that I would save them if I had known, for my reaction when first witnessing the humans on the expedition was shocked stillness. I would not have the reflexes necessary to have saved them, tragically.

I do some more learning with Madge. She is teaching me how to write, slowly but surely. It took me a few lessons to even grip the pencil properly. Now I am tracing over letters that Madge writes for me. Its arduous work, but I'm sort of getting the hang of it. I want to be able to learn how to spell more names, so I can sign them when talking to people. I only know how to sign Peeta's name, because Madge showed me how it was spelled during the first lesson, and it has been engraved in my mind ever since.

I'm struggling my way through a wobbly 'Q' when Clove comes to visit Madge. I haven't seen Clove since we landed in London. They don't live in Peeta's shelter, so I suppose it makes sense. "Hello, Clove, what brings you here?" Madge asks. I only look up briefly before returning to my writing. There's no point trying to communicate, Clove won't understand my hands.

"Did you hear about the row?" Clove asks, sliding into the seat beside Madge.

"You know I don't deal with gossip," Madge answers.

"Oh come on, Madge, you know you want to know," Clove says, her voice teasing.

Madge sighs and gestures at myself. "Can't you see I'm teaching a lesson?" she says.

"She probably knows what I'm talking about!" Clove insists, gesturing at me. "She probably heard it."

I lift my head at stare at them both. Clove's grinning, clearly wanting to talk about what's on her mind. Is she referring to Peeta and Delly's fight? Does news of such things really travel so fast? "Delly went to Leevy's and poured her heart out to the girl," she explains. "Apparently, Peeta kicked her out, or something."

Wait, what? Peeta didn't do anything of the sort. I slap my hand against the table to grab their attention, and slowly shake my head. No. Not right. Not right at all. Clove shrugs. "Don't shoot the messenger," she says. "I'm just relaying what Leevy told me Delly said."

"Tell me more. What did she say?" I sign.

Clove stares at me blankly. She looks to Madge, who sighs tiredly. "She just wants to know more."

The raven haired girl must be a bringer of news, because this seems to delight her. "I thought since you were in the same house, you would have heard what happened," she says, her voice bordering on teasing.

Madge sighs and taps her pencil against my page, indicating for me to keep writing. I've been having trouble dealing with her authority, but I'm trying. I know she doesn't tell me what to out of a desire to control me or my actions; it's simply to further my education. That doesn't mean it doesn't irk me every time she tells me to do something.

"It's clear that Delly has been fibbing," Madge sighs. She throws her golden hair over one shoulder and continues to write on her own page. I admire how quickly she can scribble down her words, sometimes without even needing to look at what she's doing. Someday, I hope, I'll have the same precision and skill as that. "Or at the very least been twisting the truth. Kat wants to know what she has been telling Leevy."

Clove shrugs. "I mean, Delly is known for changing events to suit her. I'm surprised Leevy even took on board what she said."

"Leevy has been Delly's friend since school, of course she'd believe her," Madge says.

This makes the Clove snort. "Sure, but I don't understand what goes through Delly's head when she tries to convince people that Peeta is the worse of the two."

"They're just as bad as each other," Madge mutters.

I give Madge a look, but she doesn't take back what she said. It's no secret that I despise Delly, but I suppose Madge is right in some respects. Whether I wanted him to or not, Peeta did return my approached intimacy, as brief as it had been. He did explain how it was viewed in this world and it definitely isn't taken upon kindly, especially as a married man. Of course he massively regretted it, but it still happened. They are just as bad as each other, but that doesn't mean I have to accept it. I still hate Delly more, simply because of her attitude and behaviour; as if she is always the victim. At least Peeta knew what he had done wrong immediately.

Why does a person want to be viewed as a victim, anyway? In the jungle, a victim was weak, and pathetic, and pitiful. Nothing any animal wanted to be viewed as.

"True, true. However, the point still stands that where Peeta has his faults-his major faults-they aren't kick-his-wife-out-of-the-house faults," Clove reminds Madge. "Delly needs to think more before she spurts her crazy stories. Isn't that supposed to be something all liars do?"

"Delly isn't a liar," says Madge. "She's an . . . exaggerator."

Clove glances at me out of the corner of her eye. "What really happened, then? Do you know?"

"Don't push if Kat doesn't want to say. Besides, she's working."

I put my pencil down. I sign, "They fought. Delly left. She wasn't kicked out. She came back." I pick my pencil up again and continue to trace the letters on the page. That's all they need to know. They don't need to know about why they were fighting; or about Delly's threat; or Peeta's secret. If I wasn't supposed to know, I doubt Madge and Clove were supposed to either.

"There you go," Madge tells Clove after translating my signs. "Satisfied?"

Clove turns her nose up but nods. "I guess I'll have to be. I kind of knew it wouldn't be anything explosive, like Delly made it out to be." She leaned back in her seat and blew out of her mouth; making her cheeks wobble. "Usually, when Delly exaggerates, it's nothing big; then when she understates, it's a bigger deal than she says."

Sounds like Delly has some sort of opposite curse on her or something.

Madge hums her agreement. Keen to move the conversation onto a more useful point of interest, she asks, "Do you know where Primrose is?"

"Um, last I heard she was working her shift at the hospital," Clove shrugs. "Why?"

"Kat wants to talk to her, that's all." Madge doesn't tell Clove why, respecting my wishes without even being asked. "You probably won't get talking to her tonight then, Kat, but I'll make sure to tell her that you wish to speak with her whenever I next see her."

I nod gratefully. If the Primrose can divulge something; anything; to do with her experience of the jungle, and the loss of her family; it could be of great use to me. Maybe I was left under similar circumstances, but even if I wasn't, it would still provide me with some helpful insight into human survival within my jungle.

When I'm dismissed for the day, I bring my pages with me. Madge allows me to take a pencil as well, so I can practice in my room. She tells me I'm coming along well, but I still wish I could learn faster. I'm still an undeveloped being in comparison to other humans; and I really don't like it. I promise her that I won't use the pencil for anything besides writing, as apparently they can be very dangerous if used with enough force. Clearly Madge knows to what extent I despise Delly. I wouldn't kill her, though. Not while Peeta persists in this charade he calls a marriage.

The evening weather is so beautiful, I decide to go outside and visit the transparent house. It takes me a while to find the door to the garden, as the shelter is so endless there are still parts even I have not visited. When I find the doors and step outside, I am welcomed with a gust of cool; fresh air. It is nothing like the air of the jungle; which was thick; and wet; and stuffy. The air of London cuts through my nostrils and spreads tiny bumps across my skin. It's a welcome change.

The garden is amazing. It's not the largest expanse of nature that I have ever seen, but for a world of concrete and smoke, this stretch of green grass and colorful flora is beautiful. I place my pages on the step by the door, and kick off my shoes. I place the pumps on top of the pages to make sure that they don't blow away. I turn and step down onto the grass.

The soles of my feet press into the soil, the grass tickling the skin of my feet. I close my eyes and absorb the feeling for a moment, almost as if I am back home amongst the trees. When I open them again, I set my sight on the transparent house. The grey skies reflect off the glass panes, making the entire house gleam like a white sun. I sigh with contentment and start my journey down the garden to the transparent house.

It is a large structure, and once I reach it I walk around it a couple of times. Inside, I can see all kinds of flowers, all of a wide variety of colors. It's almost jarring seeing such bright beauty amongst grey dullness. When I reach the front again, I see that the door is locked. There must be a key of some sort. I wonder who would have it. Peeta? Is this his house of flowers? Or is it the Delly's? I hope it's not hers. If it is, there's no hope I'll ever get inside. She'd purposely disallow me from entering.

I reach out and press my palm against the glass. It's so beautiful in there; I wonder who is responsible for creating such a lovely interior? More importantly, who decided to trap it in the confines of a glass house? I lean forward and press my face against one of the door panes, watching my breath fog up the glass. I release my dress entirely, my hand curving around the handle just to be completely sure that it is locked. I jiggle it. Yeah, there's no entering here. Not today, anyway.

There is a rumble over my head which I instantly recognise as a storm approaching. I step back from the door and almost trip onto the grass as I forget to lift my skirts again. Something crinkles beneath my feet and I look down. My foot is pressed into a packet. When I remove my foot and pick up the packet, I notice writing at the top. I can't read what it says, but I recognise the picture in the middle. It's a flower of some sort. Bright red and intricately petalled. I wonder what this is.

I flip the packet around and notice what looks like a name scrawled onto the back. Again, I don't know how to decipher the words, but if I had to judge by the handwriting alone, I'd say it was written by a male hand, based solely on the sheer messy nature of the letters.

I start walking up the garden again, frowning at the name as if my stare alone is going to make the words easier to understand. There is another rumble ahead, and suddenly I hear something that isn't the sky or the result of mother nature's call. I realise it's coming from behind me, and turn to the source.

The door to the flower house opens, and Delly comes out. My instincts tell me to hide myself, and I immediately throw myself behind a bush. I peer around from the leaves, and notice someone else coming out behind her. Is that Gale from the homecoming ball? Peeta's friend? Wasn't he brought up during their argument at one point . . .?

They've stopped in front of the house of flowers, and seem to be conversing about something. Why was the house locked if they were inside? Can it be locked from the inside? Why would a person lock themselves inside a house, unless they didn't want someone else coming inside . . .?

Something isn't right. I can't put my finger on what, exactly, but there's something extremely odd about this entire set up. Even simply seeing Delly with this man makes me uneasy, which is stupid since I've seen her husband alone with women multiple times. Maybe it's my distaste towards her coming out unfairly. Maybe I'm just grasping at straws; desperate to find something solid to hold against her. That's probably it.

Delly turns her back to the shelter; so does Gale. They start to walk down the garden, away from the house; away from me. I stand up, my dress covered in strands of grass and smudges of dirt. I turn and continue my journey back to the shelter, only glancing back once; as if I were going to spontaneously catch Delly doing something that she shouldn't be.

I try not to think too hard about what I just saw. It's probably nothing.


	13. Temptation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kat visits Primrose in the hospital to further enquire about her past in the jungle.

Chapter Thirteen

Primrose has her own room. Not in Peeta's shelter, of course, in a shelter much larger and grander than his. It's not her shelter, it's the shelter for the ill. Where the humans go when they are sick or injured or diseased. Primrose is a healer, and therefore spends a great deal of time in the shelter for the ill. Due to her dedication to her job, there is very little time for her to come talk to me in Peeta's shelter, so Madge takes me there instead.

Madge doesn't enter Primrose's room with me. She says it's a personal matter, and none of her business. It seems to me that Madge doesn't like to get involved in anything that could possibly come back to bite her later. It would explain why she didn't wish to hear Clove's 'gossip' when she intruded on my lesson.

"Kat, welcome!" Primrose looks tired. She has bags beneath her eyes that no woman of her age should have. In saying that, I can't say for sure how old this human is. I don't even know how old I am myself, so judging anyone else is impossible. I only know that the really old humans have creases in their faces, like gravity has finally begun to take hold and is trying to drag the skin to the ground. "Please, ignore the mess, this is the first time I've gotten back to my office in days. Do sit!"

I seat myself in front of her table. The stupid contraption I'm made to wear called a corset constricts painfully around my middle, and I make a displeased sound as I forget to tuck my skirts beneath my bottom. Primrose doesn't sit down at her own chair, and instead starts to put away the objects that crowd her desk.

"From what I understand, you want to know more about the jungle, yes?" Primrose asks. Her voice is breathless, as if she hasn't stopped moving in hours, but it has this unmistakable upbeat nature to it.

When Primrose turns to me, I simply nod. I don't know how else to communicate.

"I have deaf patients, Kat, please feel free to sign away," Primrose informs me with a grin.

Relief washes over me, as I had feared that I would be as mute as I had been when Delly intruded on my slumber. It doesn't intimidate me to have silence forced upon me in such a way, but it does make feats such as this a lot harder. "I want to know what happened your parents," I tell her with my hands. "It could help me uncover what happened my own family."

Primrose nods thoughtfully as she turns to shove some books onto a shelf. Even when she's not looking at me, I know she is giving me her full attention. "I understand completely," she tells me. "My family were on an expedition, one not too much different from the one you found me on with Madge and the others. Except they were on their own, and lived in that old cabin, do you know it?" She looks over her shoulder, blue eyes shining under the fake light above our heads.

"I actually found it shortly before you people arrived," I explain.

Primrose chuckles. "Well, that's where my family spent their time. My mum; my dad; and my sister. I was only a baby at the time, so they didn't take me with them. They were attacked and were killed. I assume by an animal of some sort. I honestly don't know if there's much more to it than that."

I don't know why I expected much more than that. Peeta had already told me that Primrose was only a baby when she lost her family sixteen years ago, however, I had hoped that Madge would have been right in thinking that she would have had some extra insight into the ordeal. "Were they young? Your family?" I ask.

Primrose shrugs. "Too young to die. Although, when is the cut off age for death, really?" She finally seats herself across from me, but she's perched on the edge, as if ready to jump up again at any second. "My mother was in her early thirties, as was my father. My sister was five years old." Primrose stares at her hands with a fixated frown. "They never found her body."

"And it was sixteen years ago?" I ask.

"Well, my parents went on their expedition sixteen years ago. When they actually died is unknown," Primrose answers.

"How old were you?"

"Three."

Huh. That's older than I thought. I wonder why they took Primrose's sister on the expedition but not Primrose herself.

"I'm sorry I can't be of more help," Primrose says sympathetically. "I can only assume that something similar happened to your own family. It's common for human expeditions to get attacked by the animals in the jungle, especially if they set up in the wrong area."

I wish I could remember more about my birth family. I want to know what happened to my parents and what events transpired that lead me to being found by Kala. "Does it hurt to recount these events?" I curiously ask.

Primrose shakes her head. "Nah. I didn't know them; I don't even remember them. It would hurt more if I had been older and had memories of life with them. Their deaths did inspire me to pursue medicine, though, and I couldn't think of a job I'd love doing more than this."

"You look young for a healer."

"I was taken in as a trainee during the world war," Primrose explains. "I proved myself capable during that time and now I can work shifts at the hospital here. I'm not a doctor-not yet anyway-but my friends like to say I am already."

Primrose is amazing. To take such heartache and turn it into something so powerful must take a great deal of strength. I remember Madge teaching me some stuff about this World War, and how devastating it had been across the globe, and how they were so desperate for service and produce that they took almost anyone and anything. Madge also told me of how she doesn't think it's over, and she has an awful gut feeling that the worst is yet to come . . .

"How are you coping with us, Kat? Is there still some culture shock?" Primrose asks.

"A bit," I admit. "But I feel like I'm blending well."

"Your capability to learn so fast is fantastic," Primrose tells me. "You picked up sign language so quickly and have accustomed yourself to many of our mannerisms. You're amazingly intelligent for someone who has lived in seclusion for so long."

"It isn't so different from the jungle in London," I tell her. "Just different behavior patterns."

"Do you like living with Peeta and Delly?" I must pull a face because Primrose laughs. "They are a dramatic pair. Every day is like a soap opera, I'm sure."

I roll my eyes. You don't know the half of it.

"I counselled their marriage for a while," Primrose says. "Mad as a box of cats, the both of them. Delly is so high wired and eccentric while Peeta is grounded and mellow. Delly likes parties and glamour; Peeta just wants some peace and quiet. You know what they say about opposites, they certainly attract."

Yeah, attract into a mess of a marriage. I don't deny that opposites attract but maybe it would have been better if these two opposites stayed well away from each other. It makes me think of how I saw Delly come out of the house of flowers with Gale. It still doesn't sit well with me why something like that would happen. I keep trying to tell myself that I'm simply being irrational; being unfair because of my hatred towards Delly; or trying to look for something wrong as if it's going to prove some sort of point. Something still doesn't feel right about it, though, and I can't shake the feeling.

"We could try to find alternative accommodation if you aren't happy with them?" Primrose suggests.

The idea is tempting. It would be nice not to have Delly's eyeballs drilling into the back of my head every time we share a room, as if she expects me to rip my clothes off and writhe on the floor like an animal. What makes me wish to stay is Peeta. I know I can save him. It will just take some time. That and the partly selfish reason that I have grown to enjoy the comforts of my own room. "Thank you for the offer," I sign, "but I quite enjoy the drama of Peeta's shelter."

Primrose snorts with amusement. "Okay, if you say so," she chuckles.

There's a tapping on the door and Madge enters the room. "Primrose, Doctor Aurelius is looking for you," she says.

"Right, yes," Primrose replies, slapping her thighs and standing up. I follow, as per human custom. "I know I wasn't much help, Kat, but I hope I provided even a tiny piece of insight?"

"Thank you for your time," I reply, "I know you're busy."

Primrose blows a stray hair from her face. "Don't I know it." She shakes my hand before moving around her table and walking to the door where Madge stands. "Do tell Peeta and Delly that I was asking about them."

When Primrose leaves, Madge and I leave the hospital and go out for dinner together. Its dark by the time I return to Peeta's shelter but Peeta entrusted me with a key so that I can enter and leave at my own leisure. The halls are silent as I enter and I decide just to go straight to my room. My body is becoming more accustomed to human time and I find myself growing more tired earlier than I'm used to. I don't know whether to take this as a good thing or a bad thing. It's good because I can now rest and rise with the humans, but it's bad because it means I'm growing farther and farther from my jungle roots.

I must pass Peeta and Delly's room on the way to my own. I try to be quiet, in case they are already sleeping, but the closer I draw to their door the more I notice the light spilling out from under the door. It's not strong, which makes me think of the small light that sits by their bedside. Nearly asleep, maybe?

I pass their door and almost believe I've crossed successfully, when the door suddenly opens. I look over my shoulder just in time to catch Delly exit. She's in her nightclothes. She almost walks away in the direction in which I came when she notices me standing there. "Just home now, Kat?" she asks, amusement in her tone.

I turn to face her completely. Her face is bright red and her golden curls are a messy forest on top of her head. Maybe she has just woken up. Did I do that? Pfft. Oops.

"I must thank you for spending the day away from the house," Delly says, taking a step towards me. I frown at her in confusion. "It gave Peeta and myself time to catch up on things."

As I always do when this girl talks to me, I simply stare. I wonder if they've had a long conversation about their marriage and how they clearly don't work together. It's unrealistic, but it would be nice, to say the least.

"He wouldn't do it with you present, you see," Delly continues, taking yet another step towards me. "'It's rude when we have company, Delly.' That's what he said. But then the company is gone for the day and into the night and"-Delly blows into her hand, sending her fingers splaying outwards like the force of the air did it itself. "All excuse blows away in the wind."

I know what she's talking about now. The night when I eavesdropped, and she tried to make an advance. Peeta told her 'not when there's company'. Basically not when me, Kat, was in the same shelter as them. Then I went to talk to Primrose, and decided to take Madge's offer of dinner. Plenty of time for an advance not to become an advance anymore but a success story.

Delly is informing me of this as if I'm going to be jealous of her, but the way she talks about getting to the point of intercourse with her husband isn't desirable at all. All excuse blows away in the wind? If Peeta truly desired her there wouldn't be excuses made in the first place. All she ever does when she tries to get a rise out of me is prove how pathetically desperate she is for a reaction. What does she want me to do? To strangle her with her yellow hair so she can run to Peeta and cry about how the savage attacked her? Please!

I envy nothing from this woman, despite what she seems to think. It's clear she can see my intentions beyond discovering my roots. Why else would she try to rub such things in my face? If she's trying to make me feel threatened, she's going the wrong away about it.

"It's so freeing, you know?" Delly continues, sighing in an exaggerated fashion. "Being joined with a loved one so intimately. Nothing between you but smatterings of air. I'm sure you don't know what it feels like, Kat, since you've spent your life with monkeys."

She's right. I've done nothing like that yet. That doesn't make me naïve, though. My instincts are tenfold more receptive than any human in London's. I wasn't spoon-fed the facts of life, I had to learn them on my own. I could probably get a better reaction from Delly's husband in one night than she could her entire marriage based solely on my own natural instinct to act. In fact, if I cared enough, I could probably get a better reaction from Delly herself in one night than Peeta could get from her in their entire marriage. I wouldn't give her the joy of it, though. Besides, she's in no way appealing to me in that regard.

Delly is nearly right up in my face now. She's trying to be intimidating, and it's not working. Is she finished peeing on her tree? The tree, in this case, being Peeta? God, she's so smug, it's almost painful. I'm fighting to hide a smirk of amusement. She reminds me of the unbearable alpha wolves who felt the need to remind everyone who their mate was every few minutes just to ensure that nobody even looked at them the wrong way.

"My husband would never want a savage like you," Delly snaps. I can't help laughing at that. It's a breathy sound, due to my lack of voice, but Delly can recognize the expression on my face well enough to know that she hasn't got the intended reaction. "Don't try to deny it! I've figured out your dirty game!"

I cover my face with my hand and shake my head. This woman truly is something else. Her intentions change depending on who she is conversing with. She baits me with her marriage; despite the lies she tells most likely on a regular basis about what's actually going on in said marriage. She blackmails Peeta with his inability to give her children; despite that being completely and utterly out of his control. She baits her friends with lies; despite the loyalty and trust you're supposed to have with friends. She really is a confused and mixed up being.

"You can laugh all you want but soon you'll realize that there will never be room for you here. I'll prove that I always get my way," Delly informs me.

I roll my eyes and wave goodbye to her, having been done with this conversation five minutes ago. Delly's nostrils flare at how nonchalant my reaction to her threats is and she spins on her heel; marching off in the opposite direction like a stroppy child. Despite her childish exit, I can't help wondering, what does she mean by prove that she always gets her way? What exactly is she planning?

I glance at the bedroom door curiously. Where exactly is Delly wandering off to at such an hour in her nightclothes, I wonder? Drifting towards the door subconsciously, I nudge it further open and look in from the threshold. Temptation be damned, it always gets the better of me.

Peeta's sleeping. I don't believe I've ever seen him sleeping before. Sleeping leaves a person particularly vulnerable, as they can be viewed with their guard down without them even being aware of the fact they're being watched. Why is Delly disappearing from their room while Peeta sleeps in their bed, unaware that she's gone at all? I could be intentionally villainizing her again, though. For all I know she's just left for a glass of milk.

I lean against the doorframe and simply watch for a minute. I've always been fascinated by sleeping creatures. Back home I used to crouch by bird's nests in the trees and watch them rest. It's the rhythmic rise and fall of the chest; the small twitches; the eyeballs occasionally moving beneath the lids; the question of what kind of world is expanding beyond the darkness of those closed eyes in the form of a dream. All of it draws me in. Kala used to scold me for bothering slumbering animals all the time.

Peeta sleeps on his front, hugging the pillow like it is his true love. I don't even need to enter the room to know that he's dead to the world, lost in a deep, deep sleep that only he will be able to pull himself from. The sheets are strewn around his waist and I wonder if he's cold; if I should slip in and pull them up to his neck for him. I decide to leave him be. I know I personally hate my dreams getting disturbed, I won't ruin Peeta's, even if it would be by accident. Delly would also know I had been in their room if I did it, too, and who knows how that would end up going.

His back is bare and I can see the marks Delly's fingernails have left in his skin. They look painful, but I can't say anything. If I ever get my hands on him in that way scratches will be the least of his worries . . . I frown. I wonder if I was wrong about him being submissive and gentle. Marks like that don't come from tenderness. Huh. Normally I'm a good judge of character. Then again, Peeta was the first human creature I ever encountered in my life. I'm allowed some room for error. At this point I sort of know that I can't take anything at face value. Not even Peeta, who I had thought was so easy and straight forward.

I notice something poking out from beneath his bed. His book of marks! Oh, there's that temptation again . . .

I don't even process my movements. One moment I'm at the door and the next I'm crouched in front of his bed, pulling the book out from underneath. The corners of the book are worn and even torn in places, showing just how often this has been handled and used. I'm not even the slightest bit surprised. Peeta probably opens this book every day.

When I open the book, I'm as taken aback by the markings now as I was when I first saw his baboon marking. The animals from my jungle; the trees; the leaves; the flowers. He must have done so many of these when I wasn't around. I suppose it makes sense, since this seems to be his favorite means of passing time. I wonder what it's like to be able to create such beautiful images with nothing but one's hands and a piece of charcoal. I'm good at doing stuff with my hands; like climbing trees and swinging from vines, however, there is no way I would ever be able to do something this careful and intricate.

I reach the last marked page and end up staring at . . . myself. This particular marking has a lot of thumbprints and slight smudges on it, as if it has taken a lot of time and many retries to get right. The resemblance is almost scary. Like I'm staring at myself in the water of the river. Peeta must be able to do this kind of thing out of the images in his head, as he has never sat with me like he had sat with the baby baboon at the bottom of my tree. I don't understand why he would choose to draw me, of all things. Out of all the amazing and beautiful things in this world, why would he use his time to make markings of me? There isn't even a marking of Delly in here . . .

I slide the book back under the bed and sit up on my knees beside the bed. I wish I could look into his head and see what he's thinking. Not out of means of invasion, more out of curiosity. I mean, I'd let him look into my head as well, but I doubt there is much in there that I haven't already told him. To me, Peeta is still an enigma and there are many things I am still to know about not just him; but London; the world around me; and my past. I wonder if I'm ever going to know the truth about any of this, or will forever remain a foreigner on the outside. It's a rather upsetting idea. Like I'm a youngling again, stuck in a clan of monkeys where I don't belong, struggling to find place and acceptance. Except this time, I don't know if I'm ever going to find it.

There's a creak outside. It's distant, and sounding like it's coming from the floor below. Delly must be on her way back up. I sigh and stand, knowing that the drama of being caught here will not be worth the extra seconds. I turn and don't look back as I leave. A part of me wants to bring the book of marks with me, but I know that Peeta will immediately notice its loss. I will examine that marking of myself in more detail at some point, I just need to find the right time to see it again.

Delly appears at the top of the hall as I'm leaving the room. "What were you doing in there?" she demands to know, lifting her nightdress' skirts and hurrying to the doorway. She looks in, as if expecting me to have done something extreme like throw her husband out their bedroom window or flip their bed in blind rage.

She looks at me when she realizes that nothing has changed, confusion painted all over her features. The savage not causing destruction?! So hard to believe, I imagine. I smile at her and shrug before starting off in the direction of my room again. Today has been wholly exhausting, and all I crave is sleep.

Sleep, and the bright yellow streaming through the darkness that it brings.


	14. News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delly has impossible news . . .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Sorry this is a day late! Halloween madness and all that :D

Chapter Fourteen

I do a lot of writing outside of my classes with Madge. I'll be the very first to admit that its hard, that sometimes I find difficulty even gripping the pencil correctly, but if I can conquer the trees then I can conquer the human's means of written communication. Besides, it would certainly come in handy in the future when my hands get tired during conversations.

Sometimes I imagine being here in London long enough to know how to write full pages like Madge does while I'm working. I think about carrying my own book around with me to communicate with if I so desired. A book like those beautifully crafted ones I see in the shop fronts. I adore the craftsmanship of books. The way so many pages can be bound together by a spine; almost like a living creature. If the spine snaps, the book is destroyed. Dead. Just like animals. I would love to have one of my own. I have a flimsy book that I use to practice my writing, but I would someday love to have a book exclusively for my words. For what I'm trying to say, and the stories I want to tell.

I still have a long way to go before then, though. Letters are difficult enough, right not I cannot imagine what words will be like. As hard as it seems now, I know I will master it. First the letters; then the words; then the structures of human speech. All I have to do is keep working. Working is something I am very good at. Laziness has always been lost on me. Why waste your time resting when it isn't night? Why shut your eyes while the sky is bright when there is so much more you could be doing or creating or achieving?

I'm on my bed, practicing my 'J's' when there's a knock on my door. I hum loudly: a sign to enter.

Peeta pops his head around the door. I don't look up from my work. "Are you alright?" Concern is written all over his voice. "You haven't left your room in days."

This is partly true. I'm purposely avoiding Delly. Not because she frightens me, or makes me wish to hide, I just don't have the energy to listen to her these past few days. Her voice grates me in ways I have never felt grated. So sweet yet so . . . smug. I'd prefer to stay here than listen to her prattling voice. However, what Peeta says isn't completely right. I haven't been avoiding meals. I even make it a personal mission to show my face at Delly's table, just so she remains aware that I'm not hiding from her, I have just made a choice to avoid her and her nonsensical whining.

I turn my head towards the door. Peeta has moved into the room fully, but remains on the edge; a step from being out in the hallway again. An outsider. The man who found me is now behaving like a stranger. I don't sign, but I know my face displays my disbelief at his reasoning. "Why did you really come?"

Peeta brushes a hand through his hair. "I feel like I'm being left out of something," he informs me. I cock my head. What does he mean by that? He must see my confusion because he elaborates. "You and Delly. You're having some sort of back and forth. I know it. I can see it in the way you both look at one another at the dinner table. Has something happened to cause you falling out?"

I roll my eyes. "You know I've never liked her," I remind him with my hands, pencil still in the left one.

"And she you," Peeta surprises me with his firm response. I raise my eyebrows at him. "However, it's pointless both of you avoiding one another and then having the equivalent of a staring boxing match across a dinner table. You're both behaving like infants."

"Have you tried talking to her about it?" I enquire.

"Of course." Peeta finally takes a step closer into the room, as if being too close to the door will mean that his wife will hear everything he says. "She piled the blame on you. Which I know is ridiculous."

"How do you know that? It could be all on me," is my answer.

"But it's not," Peeta replies.

"How can you know that?" I repeat.

Peeta looks at me seriously. "You don't take unnecessary risks, Kat. I know that you know that baiting my wife is the equivalent to poking a sleeping tiger with a pointy stick."

That comparison makes me laugh. It's more of a dry; choking sound than an actual laugh but it's all I can muster with the state of my voice. Delly? A tiger? Delly is more like a snake. Conniving; slippery; venomous. Still, I am wise enough to know not to play around with snakes. She's the one wo keeps coming to me. I still like Peeta's answer, though. He knows me well enough to recognize that I don't go out looking for trouble. Trouble just keeps slinging itself at my feet for some reason.

"You both haven't liked one another from the beginning, but it seems to be getting worse. Did something happen? Anything I can help with?"

Oh, Peeta, if only you knew you are practically the epicenter of this entire problem. I would claim that Delly is paranoid, except she isn't. She is right in thinking that I'm trying to steal her husband from her bed. I could tell Peeta that Delly now knows of my intentions. In fact, it could make things easier if everyone under this roof knows what the score is. Except it could divide us all up to uncomfortable degrees. Not to mention I doubt Peeta would be too pleased about Delly knowing what's going on between us.

The way I say that. 'Going on between us' as if we're actually mates already. However, we don't need that to know that there's something there. Even now, with a large deal of space between us, the air feels heated and charged. I don't need to ask to know that he feels it too.

"Nothing you can help with," I simply tell him, before resuming my writing.

Peeta doesn't leave. I can practically feel his hesitance like it's a tangible thing. He doesn't know whether he should stay or go or leave or come back later. In the same ways he sparks confusion in me, I spark confusion in him. Either that or he overthinks every situation he is placed into, which I highly doubt is the truth.

"Delly has called a meeting in the lounge," he eventually says. "She wants you there too."

I pause. What?

Delly holding a meeting doesn't confuse me. The fact that she has invited me confuses me. I feel a stab in the pit of my stomach, the voice at the back of my head immediately telling me that this can't be good at all. I push my pages away from myself and ask, "When?"

Peeta sheepishly rubs the back of his neck. "Now, actually. It's another reason why I'm here. She sent me to come fetch you."

I know that there is probably more to it than that. Either Delly is testing me, or she is actually testing Peeta. Does she know that he's conflicted? Surely she doesn't, he isn't obvious about it. It took me to physically kiss him to know that he felt something for me. Up until that point I was taking chances and going through the motions blindly. Then she's testing me. If she wasn't, she would have come herself to get me. Then again, maybe she deems herself too important for such a petty task.

I slip off my bed and cock my head at Peeta. "If those were your reasons, why did you ask how I was feeling? Or, even better, why did you ask about what's going on between Delly and I?" A smirk tugs at my lips, an almost childish glee filling my being at the thought of playing with him again.

"I was curious," said Peeta. There was that delightful pink tint in his cheeks . . .

"Are you sure that was it?"

"Yes."

I grin and shake my head. "Better not keep your wife waiting, then," I say, heading towards the door.

As I pass by him, I run my hand down his back. Right over where Delly's scratches no doubt still reside deep in his skin. The shiver this action inflicts vibrates in my fingertips long after I have left the room.

~xXx~

Delly has practically called the entire expedition camp to this meeting. Everyone seems to be here; Primrose; Clove; Leevy; Peeta; myself . . . Madge is apparently teaching a class and that's why she's not here. What could this possibly be for? Something doesn't feel right. Anything to do with Delly leaves an unsettled feeling in my stomach. Especially since she did say she was planning something. An irritating Delly is one thing, but a planning irritating Delly is another thing entirely. What could possibly be going through her head right now?

The lounge is a very compact room. The fire is blazing away due to the bitter cold outside. Delly is perched on the edge of a giant desk when Peeta and I arrive. Primrose and the other two girls are sitting on chairs clustered around the fireplace. I don't sit as I join them. I stand, my eyes immediately locking with the only other standing female in the room. Delly quirks an eyebrow at me, a smirk of her own tugging on her lips.

"Is everything okay, Delly?" Leevy asks.

"Yeah, why have you called us here?" Clove grunts.

Peeta perches himself on the arm of the only empty chair left in the room. There's concern on his face. I can see it from where I stand. He's expecting the worst. I wish I could read his mind. If only I knew how to read his eyes the same way he can read mine. Even if I could, he's not looking at me. He's not even looking at Delly properly. He's anxiously glancing from the floor to his wife and back to the floor again. He's just as clueless as the rest of us and it's making him nervous. I don't blame him. I'm a bit on edge too. What could this possibly be about?

Delly stands and dusts her skirts off. "I called you all here because you are the closest people to me," she explains. Her eyes slide over the three seated girls before landing firmly on me again. "And I wish to share this news with you all."

My stomach begins to churn. My muscles tense. My body is preparing itself for a fight. It's rather odd, like my brain has processed this conversation as a threat before anything has really been said. I just don't like that twinkle in Delly's eyes as she looks at me. She's about to drop something major, and she knows it, and the worry of the unknown is making me feel slightly nauseous. In the same way I would feel if I saw a wild animal stalking Kala's children.

"What news?" Primrose asks.

Delly smiles and turns to Peeta. He lifts his head and stares at her curiously. She is staring at him with an affectionate gaze, but he's too lost to return it. He frowns at her with confusion, and I can't help but wonder if this sums up their relationship entirely. Delly rules everything and expects Peeta to willingly follow her without asking what's going on. Imagine a life like that . . . So lost and confused he must sometimes get if she plans things like this without informing him of what's going on . . .

Unless . . .

Delly opens her mouth and I realize a millisecond before she says it what she is about to tell him.

Impossible.

"Peeta, I'm pregnant."

Peeta's reaction to this is instantaneous. There's no pause to process, like his body maybe caught what she said before his mind completely did. I don't even see his eyes roll up behind his head, but I do see the whites of his eyes as his entire body falls backwards off the arm of the chair and onto the floor. A strangled cry of surprise leaves my mouth as Delly yelps, "Peeta!" in shock. I lunge towards him, grabbing Delly's arm and gently (not by choice) pushing her behind me.

I push the chair out of the way. It slides across the room and bangs into the far wall as I throw myself to my knees and throw my head onto his chest. I'm no healer. This is the only way I can determine if he's alive. My head rises and sinks with his breathing and I'm flooded with relief. I look over my shoulder and nod to Delly, who had been hovering behind me in shocked stillness.

Leevy jumps to her feet once the confirmation of Peeta's wellbeing is given and squeals, "Congratulations, Delly!"

Delly smiles modestly. "Thank you."

Clove even throws out some congratulations, standing up and joining their little huddle. Delly doesn't even check to see if Peeta is definitely okay. She's reaping in the attention from her lies. This has to be a lie. There's no way this is true. It can't be.

This is impossible. It can't be true. Leevy and Clove probably think that Peeta has passed out with joy, but I know the truth. He passed out because this is impossible. In their eyes, Peeta and Delly have probably been trying for children ever since they got married and this is a miracle. But that's not it. Peeta can't have children. Delly can't be pregnant. It's . . . it's just . . . it's impossible!

I notice Primrose hasn't said anything. She rises from her seat and approaches Delly. My hands are resting protectively on Peeta's chest as I watch the healer take Delly aside. Leevy and Clove are talking about how lucky they are and how this was a long time coming and how great a father Peeta is going to be and how they deserved it so much. It makes me sick. This is sick. What is Delly doing?

Despite being on the other side of the room, I can hear Primrose's voice the same way I can hear a leaf touching the ground after floating in the breeze miles away. I don't feel guilty about eavesdropping. I need to know what's bloody going on!

"Delly, this is impossible," Primrose says in a hushed voice.

"Prim, I am pregnant," Delly insists, her voice almost forcibly sweet. There it is. Primrose hasn't denied that she's pregnant, she has simply stated its impossibility. Yet Delly is already trying to defend what she has said like the healer had flat out accused her of lying. Someone so defensive has to be hiding something. A liar is nervous, a truth sayer is comfortable in knowing they're speaking truth.

"I ran those tests on Peeta myself," Primrose presses. "He has Azoospermia. It's not caused by a blockage or obstruction, meaning that natural conception like this isn't possible."

Delly's voice is slightly strained now as she answers, "Well it must be immaculate conception then, because I am pregnant."

Primrose shakes her head. "That's blasphemous," she says.

I remember Madge teaching me something about the immaculate conception. It's to do with a religion called Catholicism. They believe that the female who bore their savior had not partook in mating at all when she fell pregnant. They called this the 'immaculate conception' because it was a miracle. Despite being what they called The Church of England, and not Catholic, Primrose doesn't seem to take kindly to this comparison.

"Delly," Primrose says, her voice softer, "what have you done?"

"Nothing," Delly indignantly answers. "Except make sweet love with my husband that has resulted in this beautiful gift." She leaves the conversation at that, returning to Leevy and Clove with a wide smile on her face. As if Primrose hadn't just told her off. The three of them immediately begin giggling with one another, the topic of names cropping up almost instantly.

Primrose doesn't join them. Instead, she moves towards myself and Peeta. She crouches beside him and takes his hand into hers. Pressing one thumb against his wrist and the other against his neck, she performs some sort of test that I can only assume is medical.

"He'll be okay," she tells me. I feel better to have my own judgment confirmed. I nod my understanding. "Just shock." Under her breath, I hear her say, "No bloody wonder . . ."

Primrose glances up at Delly, who hasn't looked back at her unconscious husband once since she discovered he's alright. The healer knows not to bother telling her that he's okay as well, as Delly is clearly only concerned about her 'baby' talk right now. Anger fills me. She's done something awful. I can feel it in my bones.

I grab Primrose's hand and our eyes meet. I feel a pang in my chest when my grey eyes lock with her blue ones. Almost a twinge of . . . familiarity. I shake it off and sign, "This is impossible."

"You . . . know?" Primrose carefully asks.

I nod. "Delly brought it up in an argument while I was here."

Primrose folds her bottom lip into her mouth. "Yes, this is impossible," she agrees with me.

"What has she done?" I ask.

"I don't know." Primrose shakes her head miserably. "I really don't know."

I don't know either. But I'm sure as hell going to find out.

Peeta stirs on the floor. His eyes scrunch up and he breathes out shakily. I grab his hand and hold it tight. "Delly?" he asks behind his closed lids. I clench my jaw, trying not to get irritated by that. Of course he'd think his wife was by his side after dropping such a disturbing bomb.

"No," Primrose says on my behalf. "It's Prim and Kat."

Peeta hauls himself to sit upright on the floor. His head immediately goes between his knees. Delly notices movement and she runs to him. "Peeta!" she cries. "Are you okay?" Trying to act like she has been concerned the entire time, the deceitful witch!

"I'm going to throw up," Peeta mutters.

"Not exactly the reaction you'd expect from a father-to-be," Clove chuckles.

Primrose stands up. "Peeta's just in shock from the news. I think we should leave him and Delly be so they can talk all this out. Come on, let's give them space."

I reluctantly rise, knowing that I can't stay for this conversation. My residency in their house doesn't give me the right to be involved in important conversations like this. Delly is going to lie through her teeth, I know she is. Cry immaculate conception, or whatever excuse she has planned up her sleeve to convince Peeta that this child-if it even exists-is his. Because that's it, this all must have been planned somehow.

As I'm leaving the room, I come to the conclusion that there are only three viable reasons for this 'miracle':

Either Delly is lying through her teeth and she isn't pregnant at all.

A miracle truly has occurred and Peeta's infertility has suddenly cured itself.

Or, more disturbingly . . .

Delly is pregnant, but the baby is not Peeta's at all.

And I have an awful feeling that I know which one it is . . .


	15. A Caged Bird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Katniss returns to the house of flowers.

Chapter Fifteen

Days pass and I don't see Peeta nor Delly.

When I have my lessons with Madge in the morning, she takes me out for lunch, and then Primrose drops by after her shifts to have dinner with me. The massive house feels almost barren without Peeta's presence in it. Like his smile alone is what brings the warmth to the building. Only now I don't know if I will ever see that warmth again. Not after Delly's news. Her lies.

Despite not being there for the lies, it didn't take long for word to reach Madge. As per her usual attitude, she didn't comment. In a way, I understand her desire to avoid the drama, especially when it has absolutely nothing to do with her. I wish I could be the same. It would actually make my stay here a lot easier. The idea of this charade going on, though, the idea of Peeta having the belief that this fetus is his; this baby has the same blood running through its veins that runs through his; that he would raise it and love it as his own . . . It makes me angry. By all means, I don't doubt that he would probably love the baby as much as his own even if it wasn't his but . . . he still has the right to know. Delly's deception shouldn't be allowed to pass. Especially not when it is clearly done with an agenda of some sort . . .

I've tried probing Madge for her opinion on the matter. Madge is an educator; a woman of knowledge and natural curiosity. If she thought there wasn't anything suspicious about it, maybe I'm overthinking the entire situation. But, then again, Primrose-an actual medical expert-swears by its impossibility. It could be possible that I'm just trying to find confirmation of my hatred towards Delly. For other people to confirm for me that I'm not being irrational. I've been trying my hardest to be fair and unbiased towards Delly and her actions but this . . . this is just too much. It has to be! And I know I'm not the only person who sees it.

I must also consider the fact that even Madge doesn't know about Peeta's fertility issue. Really, if Delly was trying to trick the world to trap her husband, this would be the perfect way to do it. Even I wasn't supposed to know and Primrose could be easily silenced, especially since Primrose doesn't seem too keen about raising her voice about it anyways.

I want to visit the house of flowers. I can't explain why, but I feel something drawing me there. It used to be about the gorgeous flora that rules the mechanism of the house, but now there's something else. Something about the time I saw Delly exit there with Gale. I can't even begin to explain where this . . . almost magnetic pull originates from, but I have always been trusting of my instincts. They've never betrayed me before and I don't believe they're deceiving me now.

It's getting colder. There's a bite to the air as I step outside and I've grown to realize that removing my shoes in such bitter weather does not bode well with my heat adjusted skin. I must wait for the days where the sun peaks out of the clouds to warm the ground again before I feel the grass between my toes. I silently cross the garden to the house, which I hope will be unlocked this time around. I'm working on the hope that the only reason the house was locked the previous time I visited was because Delly was trying to hide whatever was going on inside with Gale.

In a way, I'm right. The door is locked when I reach it but a key hangs from a nail coming out of the wood by a piece of ribbon. I retrieve the object and turn it in my hands. Keys fascinate me. Such small pieces of metal can unlock even the largest of doors. A key is the difference between a stranger and a familiar; someone who is trustworthy and someone who is deceitful; someone who will respect the secrets that owning such a thing could unlock, and not disgrace them.

I can't help but notice that Peeta always manages the keys to his shelter . . .

I unlock the door and enter the house. The flowers aren't as colorful as I remember and I think it has something to do with the seasonal change Madge explained to me today. Despite this, I still find every plant beautiful. Color does not equate beauty; it simply brings attention to it. The leaves of these plants have lived their days and are withering with age. Sometimes the oldest things in this world can be the most gorgeous. Like the tress in my jungle and the very soil beneath my feet. I don't need colors and constant happiness to recognize beauty. I just need to look at something; whether it be an object; or a plant; or a living, breathing being; and know that it has lived its life to the fullest capacity it possibly could. There is nothing more pleasing than that knowledge.

There's a pathway that cuts through the glass house, up to the very middle where a stone bench sits. Someone is already sitting there, as if having expected me to come. Except I know he didn't, because when he looks up I can see the surprise on his face. Surprise and exhaustion. I know I've intruded on a time where he maybe wanted to be alone.

I lift my hands and sign.

"Peeta."

He stares at me for a moment, almost like he is processing my existence. I wonder if it's possible for a person to forget that they have company in their home after a couple of days' seclusion? He's slouched on the bench, his elbows pressed against his knees being the only form of support he has. He looks tired and I know instantly that he hasn't slept in a long time. "Kat," he eventually says.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

"I could ask you the same question," he replies.

"I want to see the flowers," I answer. This is true, it is something I've been meaning to do since my first try failed. Sure, I have other reasons for visiting but this way I'm not being completely untruthful.

I don't want to reveal what I know about Gale just yet. If Delly is a step ahead of me in that regard, then it could end up reflecting badly on me. I usually wouldn't care about how my actions make me look but when Peeta is in such a vulnerable, easily provoked state, I don't want to do anything that could make him wish to lash out against me.

"You look exhausted," I comment. "Have you slept at all?"

Peeta laughs. There's no humor to it. "Is it obvious that I haven't?"

I shrug. "Only if someone was looking close enough. It's just a natural habit of mine to scrutinize everything."

Peeta silently nods. I've never seen him so switched off before but I don't know what else I expected. I approach him carefully, like I have done so many times before when approaching wild, untamed animals, and seat myself beside him on the stone bench. It's a small bench, so our legs are pressed together. He doesn't make a move to stand or remove himself.

"Tell me what's bothering you," I say.

"Don't act naïve, I know that you know," Peeta answers. He pushes his hair back from his face and frowns. The sun is directly above us but bears no warmth, the harsh light piercing through the glass roof and dancing between the golden strands of his messy hair. This is what a male should look like. Messy and wild, not groomed and neat. If only it had been natural and not a product of fret and unrest.

I don't bother trying to act like I don't know what he's talking about. For one, forcing him to explain himself would not only be a nasty experience for him, but it would be cruel of me to make him relive everything he's probably been toiling with for the past few days. For another, acting like I don't know could result in him deciding not to confide in me at all, which can't happen.

"What do you think she has done?" I ask him.

Peeta shrugs, almost helplessly. Like he doesn't know what he can possibly say. I suppose there is nothing he can really say. There is nothing that will make this situation any better.

"I suppose it's pointless to ask at this point what you're going to do," I say.

"It's obvious what I have to do. Despite everything, Delly is still my wife," Peeta says. There's a hollowness in his voice that sends a shiver down my spine. He sounds like a condemned man accepting his fate. "If it ever got out that foul play was involved, not only would Delly's family name be tarnished but so would mine. Then this entire marriage would have been pointless."

I stare at him for a long moment, wondering whether he's serious or not. I have grown to learn during my time in London that a family name can hold a lot of weight but it can be so easily tarnished at the same time. The main objective of everyone with a higher-class status seems to be to protect their name and keep it safe. Surely, condoning Delly's behavior is too much, though! Is raising a child that isn't yours worth protecting a few letters on a page?

"Are you mad?" I demand to know. "Are you really going to lie down and take this from her?"

"Kat, I don't have a choice. This isn't as easy as point-the-finger and I'm free," Peeta answers. "It's so much more complicated than you would ever believe. Even if we had chosen divorce-without infertility or pregnancy-it would still reflect badly on us. Delly's pregnancy . . . it's . . . it's . . ."

"A trap," I elaborate for him.

Peeta sighs heavily through his nose. "Maybe," he quietly concedes. "She's always wanted children. I just never thought that she would use what's wrong with me against me to practically hold me hostage. As if she thought I was going somewhere! I don't understand why she has done this now. What has changed?"

I scratch the back of my head sheepishly. I know what's changed. Delly had never had a reason to feel threatened or worried about Peeta's faithfulness until I came into the picture. Now she constantly feels the need to assure the fact that they are, indeed, married. Maybe she felt Peeta slipping from her grasp; maybe she sensed that there was something going on between us; maybe she is just so insecure that she needed to assure herself more than anyone else. A baby was the ultimate way of doing this. But it wasn't as easy as it would be for most. So, she went to extreme measures to do it.

"You deserve better," I state, my hands falling into my lap with a soft thump after.

"Kat," Peeta says, rubbing his eyelids tiredly, "I don't want to have this conversation."

I shrug. "I understand that. Doesn't make it any less true."

Peeta doesn't see me say this, his thumb and forefinger seeming to have frozen over the top of his eyelids. He honestly looks like he's about to fall asleep right here. "It hasn't felt right sharing a bed with her since she told me the news," he admits to me, his eyes still shut. "She still swears that its mine. That some sort of miracle has occurred and either I've been cured or we've been blessed. Somehow, I don't think it's either."

I don't say anything because it's pointless. He won't see it. I reach between us and rub his back comfortingly, not sure how else to put across my support. I'd kiss him if I could but I know it's entirely inappropriate.

"In a way, I really envy you, Kat," Peeta murmurs. His hands slide down his face to rest beneath his chin, where he supports his head. "If the notion took you, you could get up and leave. You can go where-ever you want. You're so free in comparison to most of us shmucks in this city."

"You're not as trapped as you seem to believe," I tell him. "You seem to have backed yourself into a corner. All it takes is to step away."

Peeta smiles, clearly enjoying the idea. "The Mellark name isn't exactly a well-established one but I can't destroy it just for my own selfish means."

"Your life isn't exactly a selfish mean . . ."

Peeta stands up. He crouches beside a crack in the flooring of a house, where a yellow flower seems to have grown through. "I don't care as much about my own secret. I can't have children, so what? All it would do is spark major gossip in the rings of the city. Leaving her because she cheated on me would be a very valid reason which wouldn't harm my family name"-

"Then why don't you do it?" I insist.

I slide off the bench and crouch beside him on the ground. He lifts his head to stare at me, blue eyes so deep I feel like I'm drowning in them. "I don't know if she even knows who the father is," he tells me, subconsciously fingering the yellow petals of the flower. "I'm not leaving her to raise a child on her own. It's not fair. I have a duty to her; she is still my wife."

I lightly slap his arm. "She cheated on you! She was unfaithful"-

"So was I!" Peeta interrupts. "I don't know where you seem to have gotten this idea that I am blameless in our marriage but I have messed up just like Delly." He shrugs. "In a way, I suppose we're even now . . ."

"Sharing someone's lips is completely different to getting pregnant to trap a mate," I remind him. "Getting pregnant by someone who isn't their mate, at that. Things are different now; you have an opportunity to get out of this mess of a marriage without any harm to your name!"

"And then what?" Peeta demands me to explain. His voice is hard, like he has grown tired of having to listen to impossible things being proposed to him.

"You know what my answer to that would be," I tell him.

We stare at each other for a moment. The blue of his eyes almost feel like they're getting darker; the anchor to which I desperately cling to keep buoyed in this new reality. The first human eyes I ever looked deep enough into to see the soul behind and decide with unwavering doubt that I had to protect and claim as my own. I know that behind those eyes he feels the same desire as I feel but between there and is heart is so many obstacles and duties that there's no time to process it.

Peeta sighs, his eyes dropping to my hands. He reaches out and takes them, despite my avid protest. "Just let me talk for a minute," he tells me, tightening his fingers around my own so that I can't pull them away to interrupt him. "I want to," he admits, letting his guard collapse. "I want to go with you. I have done ever since you proposed running away after my fight with Delly. You said you wanted me to come to you, well I suppose you can consider this me coming to you."

Excitement boils in my stomach and I exhale shakily. These are the words I've wanted to hear come from his mouth for a long time, however there's something to his words that makes me hold back. I don't kiss him or hug him like I had imagined I would when he finally came to me. I stay my hand. He's not finished speaking.

"I can't leave Delly like this," Peeta tells me. He can't hold my gaze and lets it fall to the floor sadly. "I've known her since we were children. Despite everything, in a way I still love her. Not in the sense that would warrant marriage but in the sense that makes me reluctant to abandon her when she is in such a vulnerable state. Whether the baby is mine or not, she is still pregnant. I can't leave her without support."

He's too good. Why does he have to be too good?

Peeta lets me remove my hands from his to respond. "If you discovered who the father of the child was, would you be more inclined to leave her?"

"I don't know, Kat. Delly won't budge in her insistence that the child is mine. There's no way to ever know who the father is, never mind if he would take responsibility for what he has done," Peeta says.

I stand up. Peeta senses the authority I'm exuding and he stands as well. "Kiss me," I tell him.

"Kat, I don't"-

"Do it. One last time."

It doesn't take much convincing. It's like he's been teetering on the edge of desire for a very long time and all he has needed is a little push. His hands touch either side of my face and he closes the distance between our lips, the action so desperate and fueled with passion it takes my breath away. We fit together so easy, it's impossible not to entertain the idea that the Gods molded us both to perfectly rest against each other. If this man thinks I can leave him to lead an unhappy life when whenever we kiss the air charges with electricity, then he is truly mad.

Peeta may be willing to sacrifice his happiness, but I'm not willing to sacrifice my own.

The kiss practically energizes me; filling me with determination to fix this mess despite it not even being my mess to fix. When we pull away, his eyes are hooded and he's breathing heavily, his face flushed a lovely pink color. "I have horrible self-control," he mutters shamefully.

I smile. "This won't be the last time," I inform him.

Peeta looks alarmed by this admission. "But you said"-

"If I get my way, you won't have to do that with shame," I explain.

I bend down and pluck the yellow flower from between the cracks in the flooring. I pass it over to him with a flourish. He looks at it with confusion but nearly drops it again when I push up onto my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. His kiss served its purpose. It has given me the determination to find out who Delly has impregnated herself to. If I can tell Peeta who it is and make them take responsibility for their actions, then maybe he will find the courage within him to finally break free of this mess.

You shouldn't cage birds. If they don't break free, they will die. I would sooner die than let another bird die in its cage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This is story has fully caught up chapter-wise with my other fanfiction accounts. Due to this, it will have to be updated now on a fortnightly basis! I hope that's okay with everyone! I post updates about my fanfiction on my twitter @BBerrychills94 just in case you ever wonder why I miss a day : )


	16. Chapter Sixteen: Sneak Peek and Important Notice!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A sneak peek of Chapter Sixteen of Me Katniss, You Peeta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Explanation time, guys. You certainly deserve it.
> 
> Recently, I've been struggling to find the motivation to write. I'm going through a lot in my personal life that has been sapping all of my energy away. I'm in the process of seeking help but in doing this I've sacrificed a lot of time that I would normally spend on my computer. It's no secret that computers don't help a person's mental state so I've been trying to cut down on my laptop time.
> 
> My stories are taking a hit due to this. I can't write as often as I used to, meaning that I don't update as frequently as I used to. It's been a month since I touched this story and all I could conjure up is a short sneak peek. I can only apologize. I'm not enjoying writing as much as I used to, and that's something that terrifies me.
> 
> I'm not ditching this story. I know that I left Me Katniss, You Peeta on a long hiatus not too long ago. I don't want this to happen again just as much as I hope you guys do. I'm working my hardest to try to pump out chapters but-as I've always said-I don't want to sacrifice the quality of my work just to increase the number of updates I produce. So, I will not be updating as much as I used to.
> 
> Just know that I am doing everything that I can to try to improve my productivity and hopefully get back into a more frequent pattern again. I do not want to leave any of my stories unfinished again but I hope you understand why there may be large updating gaps.
> 
> I am sorry. I hope you guys will be willing to stick by me and Me Katniss, You Peeta through this rough patch. Your love and support as readers has always been the reason why I've kept writing and it's what inspires me to try to help myself improve. Thank you for understanding and staying with me and my work.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games or Tarzan.

Chapter Sixteen: Sneak Peek

I know who the father of Delly's baby is. It's obvious that it's Gale. Not only did I catch them exiting the house of flowers in secret, but Peeta himself even said that Delly had fancied him, that's why he had been at the Homecoming Ball. All the signs point to this Gale fellow. The real question is, where can I find him? How can I find him? Most importantly, if he knows that Delly's child is his, will he want to become involved?

If he doesn't, I will force him. There will be no room for argument.

The most difficult thing of all, however, will be getting Delly to even admit that she has cheated on Peeta at all.

According to Peeta, Delly has continued to be adamant that she has not been unfaithful. She is insistent that the baby she carries belongs to her husband, despite its impossibility. Her friends believe her, they don't have any reason not to. Primrose and I are suspicious, and I know that Madge is as well. Madge is a clever woman, clever to the extent of wishing to remain out of the affairs of others. I know she is wise in this decision, but that opportunity is long gone for me. I'm in too deep.

The house is empty besides one person. I make my way through the corridors with ease. It wasn't hard for me to map the layout of Peeta's shelter in my mind, I've memorized much larger terrains in much shorter lengths of time. I know where to find her and it almost feels as if she's waiting on me. I don't hear a single footfall heading my way, no creak in another room, no scraping of a chair far in the distance, she is clearing standing still. She hears me coming. She's expecting me.

I open the door that leads out onto the patio and there she stands. Still as a statue, the afternoon sky lighting her pale, glowing skin to a point where she almost looks unreal. Despite everything, I have always been conditioned to appreciate beautiful things, and I never could doubt Delly's attractiveness. She has a natural celestial glow that followed her even before she was pregnant. I'm not threatened by this. I enjoy how I look and no one will ever make me feel bad about that. Besides, appreciating someone else's beauty does not dispose your own. Everyone views beauty differently: some will look at moss and see beauty in how in grows and consumes, others will look at moss and think of it as gross. It's how the individual sees it.

She doesn't look at me.

"I thought you would be gone by now," she admits.

I wonder why. Just because she's pregnant now? That doesn't make any sense-

Wait. Does Delly know that I know about Peeta's being unable to have children?

"It's pointless hanging around any longer. If you believe he will leave me now that I'm with child, then you're most definitely deluded."

I approach her, rounding the garden furniture and standing beside her on the edge of the patio. She glances at me momentarily before returning her gaze to the garden. I copy her stance, looking out across the land behind their shelter. My eyes immediately find the house of flowers and lock there by instinct.

"Unless you intend to wander around our home as a lonely fourth party for the remainder of your days, it could be arranged. However, I'd say that you'd always feel like an outsider looking in that way, especially when our boy is born."

My eyebrows draw together. How in the world does she already know she's carrying a son? I know boys are most desirable-for some bizarre reason-but she surely hasn't assumed that she's carrying one purely on instinct? Well, you know what they say about a mother's instinct, I suppose . . .

"You remember the night we bumped into each other in the corridor? That's when I conceived." Delly's hand goes to her stomach and she rubs. "How lucky are we that the first night we are intimate in so long is when we finally conceive."

My head turns and I stare at her profile. Her eyes are so distant, like she's reminiscing on the night in question. She doesn't look like she's all there. Like her physical body is standing here beside me but her mind has gone somewhere else completely. Don't tell me that she's so unbalanced that she actually believes her own lies? Is that possible?

"You will leave once he's born." Delly makes this a statement. I raise my eyebrows but she still won't look at me properly. Almost like she doesn't care what I have to say on this matter. "We don't need you here anymore. You won't distract him anymore. Once he's born, his attention will be back on me. Not on you."

She's not saying any names and it's becoming difficult to discern who she is talking about, whether it be Peeta or her unborn 'son'. All she is using are male pronouns. She falls silent after that and continues to stare at the garden, directly where my gaze used to lie: On the house of flowers. I wish I knew what was going on inside her head. I wish I knew what she was thinking about.

There's no mistaking the lowkey hysterical tone to her voice, like under the hundreds of layers of determination and stubbornness, Delly Mellark is slowly losing her mind. And with that unsettling thought in mind, I can't help but fear that maybe she truly is.


	17. The Lengths of Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Peeta gets a checkup to see if there really has been a miracle, Katniss listens to Delly as she rambles her case.

Chapter Sixteen

I know who the father of Delly's baby is. It's obvious that it's Gale. Not only did I catch them exiting the house of flowers in secret, but Peeta himself even said that Delly had fancied him, that's why he had been at the Homecoming Ball. All the signs point to this Gale fellow. The real question is, where can I find him? How can I find him? Most importantly, if he knows that Delly's child is his, will he want to become involved?

If he doesn't, I will force him. There will be no room for argument.

The most difficult thing of all, however, will be getting Delly to even admit that she has cheated on Peeta at all.

According to Peeta, Delly has continued to be adamant that she has not been unfaithful. She is insistent that the baby she carries belongs to her husband, despite its impossibility. Her friends believe her, they don't have any reason not to. Primrose and I are suspicious, and I know that Madge is as well. Madge is a clever woman, clever to the extent of wishing to remain out of the affairs of others. I know she is wise in this decision, but that opportunity is long gone for me. I'm in too deep.

The house is empty besides one person. I make my way through the corridors with ease. It wasn't hard for me to map the layout of Peeta's shelter in my mind, I've memorized much larger terrains in much shorter lengths of time. I know where to find her and it almost feels as if she's waiting on me. I don't hear a single footfall heading my way, no creak in another room, no scraping of a chair far in the distance, she is clearly standing still. She hears me coming. She's expecting me.

I open the door that leads out onto the patio and there she stands. Still as a statue, the afternoon sky lighting her pale, glowing skin to a point where she almost looks unreal. Despite everything, I have always been conditioned to appreciate beautiful things, and I never could doubt Delly's attractiveness. She has a natural celestial glow that followed her even before she was pregnant. I'm not threatened by this. I enjoy how I look and no one will ever make me feel bad about that. Besides, appreciating someone else's beauty does not dispose your own. Everyone views beauty differently: some will look at moss and see beauty in how in grows and consumes, others will look at moss and think of it as gross. It's how the individual sees it.

She doesn't look at me.

"I thought you would be gone by now," she admits.

I wonder why. Just because she's pregnant now? That doesn't make any sense-

Wait. Does Delly know that I know about Peeta's being unable to have children?

"It's pointless hanging around any longer. If you believe he will leave me now that I'm with child, then you're most definitely deluded."

I approach her, rounding the garden furniture and standing beside her on the edge of the patio. She glances at me momentarily before returning her gaze to the garden. I copy her stance, looking out across the land behind their shelter. My eyes immediately find the house of flowers and lock there by instinct.

"Unless you intend to wander around our home as a lonely fourth party for the remainder of your days, it could be arranged. However, I'd say that you'd always feel like an outsider looking in that way, especially when our boy is born."

My eyebrows draw together. How in the world does she already know she's carrying a son? I know boys are most desirable-for some bizarre reason-but she surely hasn't assumed that she's carrying one purely on instinct? Well, you know what they say about a mother's instinct, I suppose . . .

"You remember the night we bumped into each other in the corridor? That's when I conceived." Delly's hand goes to her stomach and she rubs. "How lucky are we that the first night we are intimate in so long is when we finally conceive."

My head turns and I stare at her profile. Her eyes are so distant, like she's reminiscing on the night in question. She doesn't look like she's all there. Like her physical body is standing here beside me but her mind has gone somewhere else completely. Don't tell me that she's so unbalanced that she actually believes her own lies? Is that possible?

"You will leave once he's born." Delly makes this a statement. I raise my eyebrows but she still won't look at me properly. Almost like she doesn't care what I have to say on this matter. "We don't need you here anymore. You won't distract him anymore. Once he's born, his attention will be back on me. Not on you."

She's not saying any names and it's becoming difficult to discern who she is talking about, whether it be Peeta or her unborn 'son'. All she is using are male pronouns. She falls silent after that and continues to stare the garden, directly where my gaze used to lie: On the house of flowers. I wish I knew what was going on inside her head. I wish I knew what she was thinking about.

There's no mistaking the lowkey hysterical tone to her voice, like under the hundreds of layers of determination and stubbornness, Delly Mellark is slowly losing her mind. And with that unsettling thought in mind, I can't help but fear that maybe she truly is.

Her behaviour is bothering me. Mainly because none of this adds up at all. Peeta said long ago that Delly didn't love him anymore, mainly due to the fact that he couldn't give her children in the first place. Was he wrong? Or is Delly's whole agenda here the equvialent of a baby throwing their toys out of their pram because they don't want someone else touching their things? Does she only view her husband as property? Or was her husband wrong at all to think that she didn't have any emotional connection towards him anymore? It's hard to know.

"I know that you doubt me," Delly says firmly. "I know that you all doubt me. Everyone that you have been in contact with doubt my honesty. Primrose; Madge; even Peeta himself doubts me. He refuses to share I bed with me now because he doesn't know what to think. Soon he'll come around. I'm sure of it. I don't know what you have been trying to do to them, but I want it to stop."

I wonder what she thinks that I could have possibly done to convince them of her dishonesty. I'm a persuasive person but not that persuasive. If I had been the only person to see the cracks in this story I would most definitely be on my own in this. But I'm not. There are so many holes in Delly's story I'm surprised there is any stable ground for her to stand on at all.

"It's a gift from God." Delly looks to the sky and it makes me wonder if she thinks she can see her God up there. I don't know much about human religion but I do know that this God of theirs most definitely would not waste his time giving Delly of all people a child through impossible means. Surely there would be more important things for him to deal with at the moment than the wanton whims of a woman losing grip on her husband. "We've been blessed."

I cringe. Blessed? Delly? I'm pretty sure Delly has been cursed more than she's been blessed. Maybe the curse comes in the form of me, I don't know, but this definitely does not feel like a blessing. Especially not for Peeta, who-if this were a gift from their God-would be feeling blessed as well. Instead I'm pretty sure he's having a checkup with Primrose with his hair falling out from stress.

"I prayed and prayed and he finally rewarded me," Delly sighs.

"You're crazy," I want to say to her. But I don't. There's no use trying to speak to her until I find my voice. She doesn't know sign language so I'd just be waving my hands around in front of her.

"He rewarded us both," Delly corrects. She seats herself on one of the garden chairs and gazes out over her garden. She doesn't say anything else. My feet stay planted to the spot, waiting in case she decides to add anything else. I watch the way the breeze catches her blonde hair, brushing it over her pale face and pink lips. It almost looks like she has turned to stone, a statue in the garden like an ornament in the grass.

I hear the front door opening and I immediately leave her there. I weave through the corridors and fly down the stairs, arriving at the front of the house just in time to catch Peeta hanging his coat up on the rack by the door. He's been getting tests redone by Primrose to see if anything has changed in his fertility. Primrose has explained to me already that she highly doubts that there has been any change but since Delly is so insistent about their baby, they might as well make sure.

Peeta's gaze meets mine and I can see a heaviness in the blue of his iris'. "So?" I ask.

Peeta shrugs. "Still infertile," he says, the statement more of a sigh than spoken words. "No change at all."

I hear a shift behind me and I turn. Delly is standing a couple of paces away, hovering nervously by one of their guest room doors. I raise my eyebrows at her. She flushes and rushes down the stairs, her skirts a whirl of red in her hurry. She practically elbows me out of the way. "Don't you see?" she insists. "This is a true miracle! We've been blessed, Peeta!"

Peeta regards Delly with a weariness that I've never seen in him before. "Blessed," he says slowly, his voice questioning.

"From God," Delly presses. She tries to take his hands but he doesn't let her, so her own hands just hovered between them awkwardly. "We've been chosen!"

"Delly, this isn't a gift from God," Peeta says. "You are not the immaculate conception. Pardon me for saying this in company but you are nothing like the Virgin Mary. You're losing your mind."

"You'll see that this baby is yours when its born," Delly continues to press. There's a softness to her voice, like she isn't mad at all at Peeta for not believing her. Maybe she concentrates all her venom and rage on me, since she seems to believe that I'm the reason for his disbelief.

Peeta eyes Delly curiously. "So, you believe there's a means of proving the baby is mine once it's born?"

"You'll just know, I'm sure of it!" Delly smiles. She touches Peeta's face briefly before wandering off. I watch her with bemusement as she disappears again up the stairs. She's been doing that for days now, just wandering around the house like she doesn't have a purpose besides acting like a ghoul haunting the mansion.

Peeta and I's eyes lock. I shrug, showing him that I'm not going to comment on the matter since anything I say would probably seem catty anyways. "If she keeps talking like that, she's going to get committed," Peeta says.

"What does that mean?" I ask him.

"Ah, there's a . . . hospital . . . for people who are sick"-

"Yeah, Primrose works at one," I say.

"This is a different type of hospital. It's for people who are sick, but more . . . mentally, than physically." Peeta and I fall in step beside each other. The idea fascinates me. A sickness of the mind? I didn't realize that was a thing. "I personally don't agree with them. I think it's great trying to help people are mentally unwell but those places . . . they're very tough on them."

"How so?"

"They treat them like they're crazy. They put them in padded rooms so they can't hurt themselves and sometimes even strap them down to the things." Peeta shuddered. "If Delly keeps talking like she's the Virgin Mary carrying the baby Jesus someone is going to notice and they'll call someone with concern. It always starts with concern . . ."

"What are you going to do to help her?" I ask as we mount the stairs. "Appeasing her will only make the situation worse and trying to tell her otherwise just makes her want to drive the point in harder."

Peeta shrugs. "I've asked Primrose to speak to her. Give a medical opinion. It's all I've got."

I nod my understanding. This predicament seems to swell in complexity every day. Whether this is Delly's intention or not is unclear but I certainly can't tell if even finding Gale will make it any easier. The way things seem to be going, Gale could fall to his knees in front of Delly and declare how he was willing to be the best father he could be and Delly would frown with confusion and insist to him that her baby belongs to Peeta. I hope this isn't the case.

So far, finding Gale is all I've got. Without him, I have nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The fanfiction awards 2017 nominations have finally opened on Wattpad! I qualify as an author for a couple of awards with Me Katniss, You Peeta but I need you guys to help me get there!
> 
> Me Katniss, You Peeta can be nominated for: 
> 
> -Best literature Fanfiction
> 
> -Best Fanfiction plot
> 
> -Best Overall fanfiction
> 
> You could also nominate me, Blueberry, for the Best of the Little {Next Big Thing} Award if you wanted to ^_^
> 
> You nominate through the wattpad app by visiting this book: https://www.wattpad.com/343885514-the-fanfiction-awards-2017 
> 
> and leaving an inline comment on chapter two beside the award you think this story (or author) deserves. The comment must include the story's name and then link my author name Blueberrychills94.
> 
> Massive love and thanks to anyone who decides to nominate me! <3
> 
> A/N: I'm still struggling to write, I just got a shot of inspiration today, so my updating will still be a bit wobbly. I hope this update was worth the wait, though! Thank you all so much for your patience with me! <3

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Follow me on twitter to keep updated on my writing and other goings on. You can find me at https://twitter.com/BBerrychills94 . Let me know you're an AO3 follower and I'll follow you back :)


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